


Concupiscent Flips Under Echelon Vacillation

by seademons



Series: Same Universe, Different Stories [2]
Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Drug Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Government Conspiracy, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Resistance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-01-25 08:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 138,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12527584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seademons/pseuds/seademons
Summary: Dave’s voice was an angelical echo that pulled him back from the dark depths of his stupefied mind. He hated it there, absolutely hated it there.Inspired by the world of Hiveswap, where the trolls live in a disgusting dictatorship, this is a scenario where wealthy humans are the dictators, and trolls are bred to obey. Naturally, there's a resistance, secret meetings and a whole lot of uneducated planning, the only reality that Karkat's known, until Dave's forced into his life via Hell's most efficient express: a group project.





	1. Karkat: Brood.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the prequel to Professional Pitfall Escapist, but it's absolutely NOT necessary to have read that, at all, to get the point of this. Prequels have that going for them. 
> 
> Slight trigger warning for mentions of past sexual abuse.

As they walked, his feet kicked at dry leaves, grass and sticks, crunching it all underneath the soles of his shoes, leaving a dismissive trail of destruction behind the five of them, all the way across campus, to the bus stop that would take them home. The first week of classes was over, and had been entirely forgettable. What they called “higher education” up in the Senate was nothing but bullshit, in his true and honest opinion, and for as much as his idiot friends were wholly composed of dipshits, they’d agree with him in a heartbeat about this. The education system was so broken that it pissed him off, and had him thinking of other, more infuriating aspects of his life that also pissed him off and maybe even got him sad at times, more than often, and, so, for that reason, he tried not thinking about any of that, which he couldn’t have been worse at, and his friends didn’t help, either, all revolution this, resistance that, whenever they hung out together. They seemed to live and breathe rebellion and, for as much as he didn’t mind that, even kind of liked it, talking about this stuff all of the time was tiring. It really exhausted him. Even passively listening to Dammek’s bullshit was energy-consuming.

“You know, playing your assigned instrument exceptionally well is actually rebellious.” Dammek spewed out to the lot of them, sounding like an entitled douchebag as he did, matter-of-factly as if he hadn’t just pulled this, and everything else that he had ever said, out of his ass. Karkat rolled his eyes. His stupid fucking friends, on the other hand, looked amazed, almost wooed by this forbidden, brain-expanding knowledge. It was annoying to see.

“Elaborate.”

He groaned inwardly.

“Well, Aradia, when the subordinates excel at an activity so brilliantly, so remarkably above their superior, to the point where this activity alone is single-handedly dealt by the subordinates, and no longer part of the superior’s portfolio, the subordinates have full ownership over it, thus taking this activity away from the oppressing class. Did you notice how not a single human can play the strings anymore? Once we take the guitar and piano from them, we’ll have the whole orchestra for ourselves.”

“So what?” The question slipped, and before he could regret it, his mouth was running faster than he could catch it. “We’re still their subordinates, Dammek. They don’t need to learn how to play the violin if we’ll do it for them, whenever, at the ring of a fucking bell. It’s not like we can deprive them of classical music by refusing to play. What’s that going to do for us regarding the battle of the classes?”

The other three raised their brows at the two of them, but Dammek didn’t look shaken. Or, at least, from behind the shades, he didn’t _seem_ shaken. He smirked, actually, and Karkat didn’t like that at all. He should’ve stayed quiet, he knew that. It was useless arguing with this fucking guy, the “Tetrarch of the Rebellion.” Fuck off.

“This is a start, bro, can’t you see it? First we take over their housing, which we already have, then we take over their hobbies, which we’ve been doing, and soon they’ll have nothing to stand for. If every single troll up and leaves one day, just straight up walks out of their master’s mansions, and communes on the streets, or meets up with the others at the White House to throw the president, what will the humans do? They can’t even make themselves breakfast to go fight us.”

“They’ll shoot the lot of us, that’s what they’ll do. To every troll, there are two to three humans, and that’s a ratio that’s been carefully kept by Jack Noir himself. Just grow the fuck up, Dammek. They have armies, we have nothing.”

“We have the highbloods and infiltrated agents. If every lowblood kills their master in their sleep, there won’t be a single figure of importance left standing to lead a human front against us. Think broader, Karkat. We’re everywhere, and even though the highbloods act like they don’t give a shit about us, when the revolution comes, they’ll be on our side, and you know that a single highblood can easily kill up to ten humans and counting. We’re not so disadvantaged.”

He rolled his eyes again, harder this time. There was a headache forming on the front of his brain and he really didn’t want to have to deal with it, not at the moment, not ever. Arguing with Dammek was the same as repeatedly hitting one’s head against the wall, accomplishing nothing except for a headache with a following concussion, and maybe even a lowered IQ. Who knew, maybe that was why he couldn’t learn to play the violin for his life, no matter how long he practiced for. Maybe spending too much time with the guy was mentally damaging.

“Whatever, man.”

His friends never really chose a side whenever he and Dammek happened to headbutt each other, only listened to the discussions with growing pensiveness as if they were philosophical theories exposed to hungry scholars instead of two idiots talking unimportant and ultimately pointless shit to no one in particular. He didn’t care that none of his friends was ever interested enough to jump in with a thought or two, or that he never got any backup from any of them while Dammek had the undivided and eternal support from Xefros, much to no one’s surprise, and Sollux usually had Aradia’s endorsement. In truth, he didn’t really mind being on his own.

They took the bus to Building 27-A, twenty or so minutes from campus, where they all, unfortunately, lived together. The rustbloods on the second floor, copperbloods on the third, goldbloods on the fourth, and so on, up to the penthouse, where amethystbloods lived, and partied, and did drugs, and whatever else it was that trolls artificially bred on an alien planet living under the illusion of luxury did in their spare time. Karkat actually had no idea what the penthouse even looked like, but he knew that the sixth floor did nothing but drugs, so the floor above that couldn’t have been much different. He’d rather not dwell on that train of thought, though. It’d only affect his life for the worse, much alike standing in Dammek’s presence for too long.

The first floor was comprised of common areas, such as the cafeteria, the leisure rooms, and the mass bathrooms. They were mostly inhabited by low and middlebloods, so that probably meant the penthouse had their own kitchens, bathrooms, leisure rooms, whatever. Karkat hated it. He and his friends put their trays down on a table and took seats.

“Did you guys see the schedule for tomorrow?” Sollux asked through his lisp while reaching for the grub sauce bottle to absolutely destroy his food with. At the sight, Karkat was too disgusted to answer.

“Are you referring to that music class shared with humans? Because I’d like to see _that_ work out for us.” Aradia commented. Next to her, Dammek snorted.

“It’ll be a shit fest. We’ll either not learn a single thing, and be used as examples to the humans, or we’re going to take over the classroom and get ourselves some pets.”

“Honestly, MM? I’m not too against that second idea.” Sollux laughed, pulling the rest of the table to laugh with him.

Karkat’s resting choleric face remained, though. Studying with humans? He wanted as much distance between himself and the human race while that was still achievable, before his imminent crash, followed by his imminent burn. A life of servitude, God, was that all that he was good for? His entire existence, shrunken down and simplified to setting tables, swiping floors, washing dishes and dirty human undergarments for the rest of his life, with the shining opportunity of rising up to chamberlain status? He rested his head in a hand, not very hungry at all tonight. It was all pointless, anyway.

Regardless, he’d have to coexist with humans tomorrow.

The trolls filled the classroom first, walking in before all humans had even arrived and filling in two of the last rows, at the very far back of the room. Sollux sat directly next to Karkat, while his other friends sat two behind them, and one by Sollux, all staying pretty close to one another. Survival tactics: groups were greater than one. They watched as the humans trickled in and took up the other four rows to their liking, not talking much, but staring a lot, as if the trolls were a bunch of animals at a zoo. Most of them had probably never even seen a troll in their entire life, and they looked like it, too, all bug-eyed and slack-jawed like fucking idiots. Karkat offered nothing but the vilest, deepest scowl that he could muster in response to each and every white-skinned homo sapiens sapiens that as much as looked in his direction. That ended up with no one staring at him for too long, which was the expected outcome, and had him secretly pleased with himself for once.

The professor didn’t look to be very interested in teaching this class as much as the students didn’t feel interested in learning it. If the subject was shared between both troll and human alike, it couldn’t have been of too much importance, anyway. They’d never give trolls access to the important stuff, that would’ve made a difference in whether or not these kids had better chances than others at acquiring jobs or organizing a proper revolution. To prove the point, the first thing that the professor told them to do was get in pairs, and choose wisely, because they’d be in these pairs for the rest of the semester. The epitome of involved teaching.

He and Sollux immediately, instinctively, glanced at each other, and agreed, without a word, to being together for this one, for the long haul. That was, until their plans were rudely hijacked.

“Hey, Cancer.” Spoken from up front, soft and smooth, just loud enough for him and his friends to hear. He turned around to face the kid who had called him, some white jackass wearing shades indoors. Dammek wasn’t allowed to do that, always having to wear his sunglasses hung on the collar of his shirt while indoors, yet this human kid apparently had no problem with it. He briefly wondered how his friend felt about that.

“Be my partner?”

At the question, the entire classroom swiveled around to look at them. He felt his blood run cold, his breathing hitch for a full second. Was this a joke? He was clearly being messed with, it was obviously a rhetorical question, this couldn’t have been real. Frowning, he opened his mouth to tell this disgusting prick off, but the idea died midway up his throat. The amount of humans surrounding him was too great, and telling this guy off would surely get him in trouble. He shouldn’t do that, maybe just let him down nicely instead. Play the kind subordinate that he had been brought up to be. Oh, fuck, the subordinate. His entire life, he was taught to be kind to humans, learn to take an order. Shit, was this a test? Was _this_ an order? It hadn’t sounded like one. He bit his lip, glancing at the professor up ahead, behind her desk, as paralyzed in shock as the rest of the classroom seemed to be. He cleared his throat.

“Um, Professor, may I accept the invitation?”

The entire class turned back around to look at her as she slowly seemed to come to. She blinked rapidly in succession, more than unsure of how to proceed in such an unthinkable situation, and clearly not being paid enough to deal with it. Her hands trembled.

“Y-Yes… Yes, of course. Yes, you may.”

His world collapsed. His stomach sunk, his eyes closed, and he could _feel_ the beginning of the rest of his life here, starting in this exact moment, crawl up under his skin. The crash and the burn. He wanted to fucking die.

At least, today, there wasn’t much to it. Most of the class was exposition to what they would be doing for the rest of the semester, only the last few minutes were spent getting to hypothetically plan out their project, out loud, with their partner. Everyone got up from their seats and approached their friends for that, but all he could do was sit in place and watch this white kid walk over to him, because his legs refused to stand, his body refused to move. The boy stopped at his desk, leaning a hand on its surface to glance down at him. Having to look up at this kid made him feel incredibly small, made dread fill up his veins with poison, made him wonder what it was that he had done to deserve this kind of treatment so early on in life.

“Hey, I’m Dave.” Smooth voice, dashing smile. What the fuck did this guy want with him, actually? “What’s your name?”

“Karkat.”

Another smile, better looking than the last. This kid had no business talking to him at all.

He got up from his seat because having to look up to talk with this guy was making him feel like a worm in the presence of a King, and, yet, to his surprise, not a lot changed from doing that, because Dave was still taller than him while standing. Great. He loved this. His stomach was filled with rotting bile and he wanted to puke, preferably a projectile squared on Dave’s face.

“Tell me something, Dave.” His tone was less than subservient, due to incredibly stressing circumstances, but he managed to check himself before proceeding. He could feel his friends staring from behind him. “Why didn’t you pair up with one of your human friends?”

Dave shifted his weight from one foot to the other while leisurely passing a glance over his shoulder, back at the humans that had gathered among themselves. He wasn’t particularly next to any of them, closer to the back of the class to speak with Karkat and, consequently, amid the trolls. Not a single human seemed to think too highly of that, though, or miss him in any way, or even seem to desperately want him back with his kin. Karkat wondered if he actually had any friends.

“I just had never met a troll before, is all. Thought this was a good time to change that.”

Hm. Right.

Karkat slit both eyes up at him but didn’t contest that. His reputation was already low enough.

“So.” Dave said after a second, breaking the tension and changing the subject. He swung his bag over to his side and stuck a hand inside. “I know this is unorthodox, and it’s common sense to hate it, but I don’t give a shit.” He removed a camera from the pits of the bag. “Take a selfie with me?”

Karkat raised a brow. The sight before him, and everything that had led up to it, had been so extraordinary that he almost couldn’t believe his very eyes. Was this guy for real?

“Is that a film camera?”

“Yeah, I found it in my parents’ basement. There were stills from the 90’s here.” Dave shook the camera, smiling proudly of himself, as if the finding had been in an unreachable excavation site dug out with his bare hands. As much as Karkat hated to admit it, this particular human wasn’t bad looking in the slightest, and his smiles were easily charming. Dammit. “So, selfie, or nah?”

“Whatever.”

It slipped. That had seriously slipped, going against all troll codes of servitude, and he could almost already _feel_ the disciplinary lecture reverberating deep into his skull before it had even happened, the accusing tone, the patronizing glare, the should-dos and shouldn’t-dos of a troll in the presence of a white human and how much did he really want to see the inside of a rehab? He winced instinctively, waiting for it, waiting for a shout or a backhanded slap or even a small reprehension from Dave, but nothing. The second passed, and nothing came. All that actually happened was Dave grinning, leaning close to his side, and snapping the picture at arm’s length. He blinked with the flash, and had absolutely blinked in the picture as well, but that didn’t even matter, not at all. He hadn’t been reprimanded for his wrong answer and that was a huge fucking shock.

“Awesome. I know you don’t care, but I have been doing this thing recently, it’s a sort of project for myself, I guess, where I take really shitty pictures of everything new that I do, blind, of course, and then see how it looks later on. This one’s gonna go to the hall of fame, I’m sure. You’ll be famous one day, Karkat, and you’ll thank me for it.”

Hearing his name back from the lips of a human was surreal. This whole thing was surreal. He was still reeling from the off-hand comment from before that had gotten through without disciplinary measure to it, which had him wondering if he weren’t just hallucinating all of this. Maybe he was really just passed out high on the floor, his face covered in sopor slime not for the first time, his body covered in claw marks again, his neck bitten and his bottom lip split right in the center, the dead center, somehow, but his fangs had been one on each side? His round, dull fangs, too harmless for a highblood, had been one on each side, and his mouth had bled, and there had been so much purple, but far more red.

“You’ve met humans before, right?”

Dave’s voice was an angelical echo that pulled him back from the dark depths of his stupefied mind. He hated it there, absolutely hated it there.

“Yeah. Yeah, obviously. Every fucking teacher I’ve ever had has been a disgusting human.”

Whoops, not the best adjective to use in this scenario. He was pushing his luck here. Would Dave hit him across the face, now, finally? He didn’t blink, didn’t flinch, only braced himself for it. For what never came.

“Really? That doesn’t sound right. Not a single troll teacher at all, ever?”

“No, Dave. Trolls aren’t raised to be intellectuals.”

“Huh.”

He fucking hated this guy. Hated every single clammy human that crawled on the surface of this cursed planet and, no, not like that. Obviously not like that, not in a million years like that.

“You know what, Dave?” His loud, aggressive tone caught his human’s attention with a raise of both brows.

Not _his_ human, what the fuck? That wasn’t what he meant at all. _This_ human was more like it.

“What?”

“I think we’re going to be great friends.”

That was a lie and a half if he had ever told one, but, for whatever reason, it felt nice to say it. To let out the most unimaginable scenario, the most crystal clear lie right through his teeth in the face of the oppressor and receive a sweet and genuine smile in return. This was so easy, spewing out bullshit to this guy rolled off his tongue smoother than sopor slime. He just couldn’t fake a smile to go with it, but he doubted it would’ve made a difference. Dave was already sold.

They had the next period together, sat as far away from each other as was possible (entirely on his part) and wouldn’t see one another until the very next day.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“So how does it feel to be a trophy troll?” Sollux asked at lunch, in line for some disgusting slop at the university’s food court. He wished they would hand out the cutlery before the food so he’d be able to cull his friend right there, in line, and take his place one up ahead.

A trophy troll. God.

The other three laughed.

“I’ll have you know, Sollux, that if he ever tries anything with me, I’ll slit his throat open so fast that his very veins will be too startled to squirt an ounce of human blood on me.”

“I hope you wrote that will of yours because I want your hoodie after the authorities kill you.”

He scowled, his heart beat faster. This hoodie wasn’t going anywhere.

“Fuck you.”

His friends laughed. Sometimes, he really despised them, and, sometimes, he thought, if Sollux didn’t already have a kismesis, they’d be clawing at each other right now.

After lunch, it was something of a tradition between the five of them to go up to the training fields and watch the highbloods work out. They had done this everyday for this past week, ever since classes had started, in an unspoken agreement. This mandatory higher education program only seemed remotely worth it when they were sat on the grass, on that little hill, watching firm thighs and big pectorals jogging behind the fence. The amethystbloods might’ve been conceited assholes, but they were Heavenly to look at from afar.

Karkat only really, strongly, intensely hated it when the coach mixed up the two highest colors for practice.

“Look at him, look at that fucking douchebag. Look how funny he runs.”

A few feet behind the fence, Eridan jogged along, dripping violet down his face and staining the white of his clothes in diluted color. His wet shirt clung to his pectorals something sinful.

“He’s not trying to run, he’s jogging.” Aradia clarified. Sollux didn’t look at all concerned with correcting himself or listening to her in the slightest, though. His foot, propped up on one knee, bounced.

“God, he’s such an asshole. I haven’t been up to his room ever since we moved here.”

“Your bedroom talk is making me nauseous.” Karkat commented, truthfully for once. Sollux couldn’t have cared less.

“I miss his stupid face.”

“Then go up there tonight.” Dammek suggested, speaking everyone’s minds. He had a hand on Xefros’ thigh and Karkat’s attention immediately redirected itself to that. His heart skipped a beat at the sight, something tried to come up his throat, but failed. Xefros didn’t seem to be minding that at all, taking it in perfect stride, along with all of the other straightforward touches from his moirail that were too red, pushing the integrity of their paleness into something dubious. Karkat’s hands closed in fists and he forced his eyes away. Not his problem.

“No, I don’t know how the penthouse works. What if they kick me out? What if the elevator only goes up there with a password?”

“That wouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but, you know, there’s other things. Like, what if they all live together in one big apartment? For as much as I’d love to have the others watch me raw ED on the couch, I wouldn’t want them trying to kill me after.”

“What makes you think they’d wait until you finish?”

“Hey, Dammek? Maybe shut the fuck up for once, ever?” Karkat cut in, disgusted beyond measure for more than just this comment, yet making everybody laugh for some Goddamn reason. They had just had the crustiest, most abhorrent grubloaf for lunch and he’d rather not see it outside of his stomach so soon, especially not splattered out on their precious little hill.

“Are you guys coming up with me later today? Please? I don’t want to go alone. I’m scared.”

“You’re not scared, you’re just trying to guilt trip us into doing this.” Aradia explained, her calm voice soothing to the ears. “You don’t have to resort to that, because of course I’m going with you.”

“Thank you, AA. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

“We’ll go, too. We’ve got nothing better to do tonight.” Dammek spoke for both himself and Xefros, in his way of making decisions without previously discussing them with his counterpart, which always pissed Karkat off more than it probably should. Nothing better to do tonight, right. As fucking if. What a nerve this fucking guy had to say something like that. What a shitty fucking moirail, too. Maybe not the absolute worst that there ever was, but definitely up there. Way up there with that oh, so innocent hand on Xefros’ thigh. It made Karkat sick, his stomach churn violently. Xefros, in his lack of defense, never stood up for himself, and simply kept on being personally victimized by the person who he looked up to the most. It was depressing to see.

“Yeah, of course!” Xefros chirped in around a grin, bright, beaming. He was far too good. The hand on his thigh squeezed as Dammek met with his eyes, Karkat saw that, and the smirk, too, and he was about to be fucking sick.

“I guess _everyone_ is going.” He grumbled from behind his own arms, crossed atop his knees, covering up most of his face as not to give himself away, his high levels of disturbance. The jogging highbloods circled around this side of the field again, and he watched as Sollux got up from his place on the little hill and went over to the fence.

“Hey, ED!”

Eridan’s jogging slowed as he looked about himself for a second, confused at first, until eventually having his violet eyes fall on Sollux’s wimpy frame clutching the fence. Confusion was immediately replaced with vexation at the sight, but he walked over anyway, stopping just under the shade of the big oak tree that rested next to their lazy group. He had both arms crossed over his chest, pushing up his stupidly big pectorals under his see-through wet shirt and, despite everything, getting Karkat’s attention that way. He hated himself for it.

“What is it, Sol?” Eridan’s dumb sea dweller accent highlighted the first word as he kept his fair distance from the fence. Smart. “What do you want?”

“Tell me how the penthouse works. Do I need a password to get there? An invitation? Is it one big, fancy apartment where you guys party all the time?”

Eridan gave him a look. The crease between his brows was so clear that it showed from behind the rim of his thick hipster glasses.

“What? No. Who told you that?”

“No one, I’m just making assumptions.”

“Well, you’re wrong. We don’t party there at all, though there _are_ some trolls who get it on across the hall, but I’m not interested most of the time. They’re crude, and spill Moonshine everywhere, making it impossible to navigate the hallways at night.”

“Wait, so. The penthouse is just a bunch of rooms down two hallways like the rest of the building?” Sollux almost sounded heartbroken. Karkat briefly wondered if that had anything to do with that earlier comment about a couch and some crowd.

“Yes.” A pause. Eridan’s cheeks seemed to color all of a sudden, his eyes glancing off to the side a bit. “I’m room seven-twelve, if that’s what you want to know.”

Karkat didn’t need to see Sollux’s face to _know_ that he was smirking maniacally from up at the fence, the back of his head telling enough. Eridan’s stern look in response to that confirmed his suspicions.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“I’m not surprised.” Eridan spoke while stepping back, further into the field. “I’ll see you later, then.”

The five of them watched him run back to his highblood friends as Sollux rejoined the lowbloods up the hill, resuming his previous spot among the four. He sighed, obviously content.

“I guess you don’t need us up there anymore.” Aradia commented in passing. Sollux grinned.

“Not unless you want to--”

“No.” She cut him off very quickly, making him laugh. “I really don’t.”

That night, after the entire building had dined and showered and gotten ready for bed, Karkat couldn’t sleep. His eyes were shut, his body was entirely submerged in slime, comfortably hovering just above the bottom of the cocoon without touching the sides in the slightest, and, yet, he couldn’t manage to fall unconscious for even half a second. In the darkness behind his eyelids, Dave’s face kept appearing, like the ghost of a dead relative, here to haunt his dreams, now, and the rest of his life, too, until he made amends with it, apologized for having ceased its existence in the first place, for having pushed him off that cliff. Having pushed him off his desk so hard that his head had hit the tiles beneath their soles, and cracked right open, like an egg, oozing red fluid all over his black sneakers. He’d step on it without a care in the world, without missing Dave in the slightest. Wouldn’t even have felt bad. Would’ve done it again, too.

Even if he hadn’t actually even done it once.

But he would’ve loved to. Pushed Dave off, slapped that camera right out of his hand, shoved him up against the wall, wiped that pretty smile off of his face. Kissed him once, maybe, fisting his shirtfront with both hands, digging knuckles into his delicate skin, marking his white chest startlingly red, making his lips bleed with a single bite. Split right in the center. In the center? Kisses and nibbles and bites down his neck, skin so translucent, able to point out the veins underneath it, kiss them, bite them, watch bright red trickle down his body. Karkat shuddered. No, God. Not tonight. He closed his legs, turned over to the side, frowning. Dave’s soft lips, Dave’s soft hands. Probably. He looked soft all around, and even his teeth were round, and maybe he _was_ a freaky guy with a troll fetish? Maybe he _wanted_ Karkat, too. Maybe Karkat really was a trophy troll, in the end.

Too? No, that wasn’t right. Karkat didn’t want him at all. It was just… Weirdly… Flattering to have someone show interest again, even if in the most upsetting scenario possible, that made him want to scream at the mere thought of it. He shut his eyes tighter, wishing, and praying, and begging for sleep, for anything resembling unconsciousness, for _just_ half a second. Instead, Dave’s mouth on his own, Dave’s hands on his body, Dave’s fingers digging into his sides, and maybe Dave wanted to fuck him, too. Maybe Dave wanted to bend him over one of those classroom desks and press up against him and, and, fuck, he’d get to feel a cock against his ass, pressing up between his legs. Would it be warm, would it be cold? Buried far into his nook, would it be cold, like… Like… He whined. The pounding of his pulse was loud in his chest, reverberating through his ribs, slowly choking him with memory flashes. Not now, shit, not now.

He was thinking about _Dave,_ and he’d rather keep thinking about Dave and his disgusting humanoid body instead of his ex. Anything but that.

His closed legs didn’t do anything to stop the bulge from showing interest in his thoughts, though. It squirmed and twisted on itself and rubbed on his thighs and he seriously wanted to die. Reaching a hand down to put that at rest while still picturing mixed flashes of Dave’s lips on his own, and dull fangs drawing blood from himself, was as bittersweet as the thin line between concupiscent flips and destructive instincts.


	2. A non-date, a friend thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Optional NSFW in-between chapter: [Sollux: Ascend to the 7th floor](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12594740).

In the morning, he was surprised to see Eridan join the lowbloods for breakfast, but less surprised to notice Sollux’s iron grip on Eridan’s arm, the collar to get him through the morning, that had him stuck down here in the first place, instead of at his penthouse kitchenette, having grub eclairs or whatever. Eridan’s neck was a mess, just losing second to his face, so Karkat tried not to stare. His cheeks were warm, and he kind of wished that Eridan weren’t here right after an entire night with Sollux. It must’ve been a good one if Eridan’s body hadn’t healed itself up yet, if highblood genetics coupled with a whole overnight period hadn’t been able to take care of all of it. He briefly wondered how much worse it must’ve looked about twelve hours before, and then immediately tried to think of something else.

“To what do I owe such respectable company?” Dammek joked as the two arrived, getting a stern look from Eridan and a dumb grin from Sollux. Xefros stood by his side, looking nervous but trying to play it off as the opposite, while Aradia watched the scene unfold with a perfectly emotionless façade. No one cared less about anything than her, and Karkat admired that more than he cared to admit it.

“He’s here to finally feel like he belongs.”

“No, that’s not true. I’m minglin’ with the lowest caste against my very will.”

“Then why did you look so excited when you said yes to my breakfast invitation?”

“I’m afraid you mistook dread for excitement, Sol. Confusin’, I know. Unimaginable to think I wouldn’t want to stand around the lowest caste for half an hour before practice.”

“You know, Eridan, if you had been born a human, I would have culled you in your crib.” Karkat commented in passing, the bulk of his attention not directed at whatever those idiots were talking about this time, but, instead, at dumping the stickiest tuber paste ever created onto his tray, accompanied with some beef that looked to have been thousands of years old. His friends followed without as much as a wrinkle of the nose at it.

Eridan, however, looked beyond disgusted.

“Mind your words, KK. Now that you’re a human’s pet, you can’t keep talking about murdering babies out in public.”

“If Dave hears you, he’s going to give you a nice and severe disciplinary smack to the ass so you’ll learn to keep quiet. Whether you’re into that or not, please don’t disclose it to us.” Dammek complemented the joke with an infuriatingly wide smirk on his lips, getting everyone to laugh at it, like the track of a bad television show. Karkat shook his head, keeping quiet, and saving himself the trouble. Getting worked up by that would’ve been entirely pointless.

“Who’s Dave?” Eridan asked, helping himself to the least gross-looking beef and some of the more edible tuber paste. He handled the serving utensils with the least amount of contact possible, as if they were made of literal trash covered in sewer spillage. On second thought, he wasn’t very far off with that one.

“KK’s new owner. He’s finally a trophy troll.” Sollux spoke while swiping the big spoon from Eridan’s hand and helping himself to the wide selection of unpalatable lumps in display. Eridan looked to have been about to throw up.

The comment had his blood boiling despite his attempts at keeping cool. He was the single worst at that.

“Shut the fuck up, Sollux. I’m _not.”_

“Sure.” Sollux slurped some of the grub soup for taste, making a gross sound as he did it. “Sure you’re not.”

As the humans walked into the classroom, long after every troll had already seated themselves, he could hear his friends snickering and whispering a row behind himself, comments about his “owner,” “master,” “superior,” etc. that had him suppressing a series of groans, eyes shut, in an attempt at keeping himself in check, as not to snap at his friends in front of the professor and get a nice two weeks thrown into rehab for discipline. When he opened his eyes again, Dave had taken the seat directly in front of him, but was on it sideways, in order to look at him, grin that dashing grin at him, bring him back to the night before, and his shameful shenanigans. His face colored.

He was fucking stupid.

“What’s up, Karkat? You doing good?”

He hated Dave’s good looks and Dave’s voice and his seductive tone, so nonchalant, as if he wasn’t even trying and yeah, yeah, maybe in _that_ way. Maybe he hated all of _this_ in _that_ way. Which was ridiculous, but whatever. He didn’t fucking care.

“I’m great. How are you?”

“Good.”

Dammek whispered something about him not having used Dave’s superior title and he almost turned around to punch the guy square in the face.

The professor announced that they would be spending this period at the library, for some research on their paper, so the class arose to leave. The trolls waited at the back for the humans to see themselves out first, and Dave, small-minded Dave, didn’t seem to grasp the idea of privileged echelons and their subordinates. He glanced back at Karkat, motioned for him to follow, and put him at such an uncomfortable crossroads that he honestly wished to never have to make that kind of decision in his entire life. Break the code to obey an order, or break an order to obey the code. He blinked, petrified. Unmoving. Dave motioned again, more impatient now, and his heart went off, he couldn’t follow. His body was a vessel and the worm that controlled it was dead. Dave noticed that he wasn’t going to tow along, so he made the choice for Karkat, took his wrist, and pulled him to tag right behind. The professor watched the two leave with an inscrutable expression on her face that made Karkat expect the worst. Who knew, maybe rehab really awaited him tonight.

Outside, at the back of the class, Karkat slowed his walking considerably, putting some respectful distance between the two of them and the rest of the humans. Dave gave him a blank look from behind the shades in response to that, surely in earnest interest to know what he was doing, the reason of his actions, but didn’t open his stupid mouth to ask a thing. Thankfully. He pulled Dave to the side, and waited, casually people-watching on the meanwhile to seem inconspicuous. Dave, wiser now, played the game. They hung out very cooly by the hallway wall until every human had disappeared from sight, and every troll had passed them by. Only then did he put a rest to Dave’s silent speculation and shoved him hard on the chest. No, this wasn’t a caliginous thing. Not this time.

The pure shock on Dave’s face was clear enough to see through the shades.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He whispered, seething, one Amendment away from ripping this guy’s face off. “What’s all this shit for?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“This whole partnership thing! What the fuck were you thinking? What do you _want_ from me?” His words were vile, tasting like poison before rolling off of his tongue. Dave, on the other hand, was perfectly speechless, confused and scared, keeping a distance of five feet between them, surely out of precaution. Trolls were aggressive and uncontrollable, wasn’t that right, House of Representatives? Better stay away.

Karkat wanted to fucking strangle him.

“Sorry, man, but I don’t know what you mean.”

A burst of laughter and loud chatter echoed from down the hallway, seeming to have come from the stairway shaft. Witnesses. Out of pure instinct, Karkat grabbed Dave’s arm and pulled him into the first empty classroom that he could find, slamming the door shut behind the two of them right after. Dave, surprisingly, didn’t react to that, only stood in place, petrified, with raised shoulders and shallow breathing. Karkat flicked the overhead lamps on.

The voices passed them by.

“Karkat.” Dave finally said, a second later, voice shaky as he took a step closer, and both palms up in harmlessness. “What’s going on with you?”

“What’s going on with me?” He repeated, angry, nearly shouting. “What’s going on with me is that some human, for _no_ apparent reason, chose _me_ for some school project, and since you’re not showing your colors, I don’t know _what_ it is that you want with me. Is this a kink thing, Dave? Just, tell me, is all of this just a kink thing?”

Through the shades, he saw Dave’s eyes double up in size, accompanied by his flushed cheeks.

“ _What?_ No, God, I’m not some pervert. I just… I thought… Well, I picked you because I thought you were cute. It’s not a kink thing, I swear. I just think you’re cute.”

Heat arose to his face, despite himself, and softened his anger into something far less violent, like, maybe, embarrassment from the simple fact that he couldn’t take a compliment. A compliment? No, wait, this was entirely backwards. Trolls didn’t _get_ compliments. There must’ve been a double entendre to Dave’s words that made allusion to something far more uncomfortable than he had anticipated it to mean. Definitely something to do with the kink thing, because, shit, was Dave flirting with him? Did Dave _just_ flirt with him? The repercussions of those words might’ve been bigger than he thought. Worst case scenario, this was the first push into the rabbit hole of weird and uncomfortable sex servitude, trophy troll style. He bit his tongue, his throat closed. He couldn’t breathe right, and, maybe, pulling Dave into a secluded classroom hadn’t been such a great plan, after all. He was walking right into it, a breath away from freaking out. Luckily, he was asphyxiating.

“So, so is this, is this a sex thing, or something? Because, I can’t. Dave, I’m not. I--”

“No, Karkat, please, just, stop. Just stop. Chill, man, what the fuck. This is nothing. This is just me being a fucking idiot, is all. Just… Just don’t read too into it.”

He swallowed. His heart was going off a thousand miles per second, making his cheeks bright, and his eyes threaten to water. God, if he cried in front of this guy, it was all over.

“So what do you want with me?”

In this empty classroom where no one could see them. He hyperventilated.

“Nothing. Look, I’ll talk to the teacher to get us reassigned, alright? So you won’t have to go through with this. I don’t want you feeling weird about it, thinking I’m some creep with a superiority complex or a troll kink or something. I just wanted us to be partners, I don’t know. I wanted to get to know you.”

If he took Karkat back as some faulty return to the teacher, he was sure to get a scolding back at the building, maybe even get it written down on his portfolio as some uncooperative piece of shit who had had the unique chance to impress and serve a human but had failed to take it. Clearly, unhelpful. Undeserving of a respectful job, unsuited for a spot in the mistress’ mansion, really only good for being pushed into some creep’s bed. He ran a hand down his face, wiping the tears that had fallen on the meanwhile. Fuck. It couldn’t have been helped.

“No, don’t do that. It’s fine, I’ll work with you. I’ll work with you.”

“No, Karkat, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do. I’d love to.” He spoke through the tears, his voice strained from the crying, his entire self a mess. Just a huge mess. He wiped at his cheeks, sniffling. “Don’t take me back.”

At that, Dave’s shoulders relaxed; his voice was softer now.

“I won’t.”

He breathed in deep.

“I’ll be the best partner you’ve ever seen.”

“Okay. I don’t doubt you.”

He breathed in again, out again, allowed his heart to resume normalcy and blinked the last of the tears away. He could get through with this. He could absolutely do it, as Dave said, no doubt about it. Determined, he fixed his eyes on the reflection of Dave’s aviators, nodding at himself. Yes, he could get through with this. He could be subservient. He could have a place on this Earth that hated his race, he just had to play the game. Play along. He inhaled deeply, then let it out, slowly, closing his eyes. Alright. The beginning of the end started now.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, voice perfectly even, as if he hadn’t been crying just a second ago. The question burned on the way out, it made his skin crawl. He’d have to get used to that.

“Uh, we have to do some research today.”

“Right. Let’s do that, then.”

He turned right around and reached for the handle to leave, pulled the door open, but just before walking out, he stopped. His whole body went still, and, slowly, he backed away from the arch, hand a firm grasp on the handle. Instead of leaving, he held the door open for Dave. This felt like a reality bend, where his brain had suddenly been taken over by an unknown entity that now possessed him, and made him watch himself from above. Dave passed him a brief look, but walked through anyway.

“Thanks.”

They marched down the hallway toward the library, side by side at first, until he remembered something about walking a pace or so behind humans, so, he did that instead. He fell a step behind, and let Dave go up ahead, except Dave didn’t seem to be playing the same game as him, because, instead of leading, Dave slowed his own pace, as well, so they would fall back in step with each other. Karkat tried to lag behind again, but Dave stayed behind with him, to the point where they weren’t walking anymore, from how slow their legs moved, now. They were practically standing in place. Karkat outright took a step back, at one point, so Dave turned around to look at him. The two of them lone figures in the middle of the empty hallway.

“What are we doing?” Dave asked, keeping his tone low as not to echo across every classroom. Karkat felt his heart skip a beat.

“I don’t know.”

“Why do you keep going backwards?”

“I wasn’t trying to do that.”

Dave frowned at him from behind the shades, then closed the distance between them, reaching for his arm. He let Dave pull him along with a warm hand around his wrist. It didn’t feel weird. He actually didn’t mind being manhandled like this, have the warmth of Dave’s skin just over the layer of his hoodie, touching his hand where the cuffs ended and his own gray began. Warm, scalding. Maybe Dave’s natural temperature was warmer than his. Dave’s body was warmer than his. Dave’s… Yeah. Okay. Yeah, that was great, that he was thinking about this from a hand on his wrist. He really was deprived, and how fucking sad that was.

He tried to think solely of the walls that passed them as Dave led him down the hallway.

“Do you remember what we were supposed to be researching?” Dave asked once within the enclosed walls of the library, in between two sturdy bookshelves, and surrounded by the musky smell of ancient parchment. He kept his voice low to a whisper, otherwise the librarian would surely walk in on them, or perhaps even seek them out for a lecture on silence.

“Something about the theory of music?”

Dave ran a hand through his hair and it actually looked to be really, really smooth and soft, like the genuine fur of an expensive coat or the pelt of an ostentatious rug. Those shiny golden locks would look really good in between Karkat’s fingers, the stark difference of color would be nice to see, a pleasant sight to the eye, a pleasant sensation on his skin.

“Shit, this is the wrong section.”

At that, Karkat looked about himself and, sure enough, endless titles on the American law code surrounded the both of them. Dave continued down the aisle, and crossed over to the next, so Karkat followed, towing along, close behind, his mind in the clouds, his body a deprived heap.

“The music aisle is over there.” He pointed out, quietly, with an arm extended for visual aid. Dave walked over without question, with not a single interjection, not one passive-aggressive comment about trolls knowing their place. Karkat followed, feeling funny.

Dave wasn’t good at being a leader.

“Do you know any of these? Should we just start reading off titles?” Dave asked, confused beyond measure. This would never work out, their dynamic. Not like this.

“I guess. I only know the basic ones that teach you to read a sheet and put your fingers on the right strings.”

“Strings? What do you play?”

“The violin.”

And he absolutely hated it. The pain it gave his neck was immeasurable and the pain it gave his psyche usually leaked down his face when nobody was really around to see it.

“Awesome; I play the piano. I actually like the keyboard better, but that’s not an option for graduation, so. Close second.”

“Cool.”

It wasn’t cool, it was boring and he didn’t care, but he was finally starting to fit into this whole subservient role, so he’d have to stick with that for now. Small beginnings. He might’ve even turned out to be good at it, because he excelled in everything that he did, and this definitely wasn’t something that he’d put past himself. He’d be the slave of Dave’s dreams even if it drove him to suicide in the end, like most good books. Maybe not good, just dramatic. The ones where the woman married a brute, found herself a forbidden love, and had to dodge society’s norms in order to experience happiness. In the end, the pressure was too much, the situation would blow over, and she’d kill herself, or simply die in any way, in order to escape it. Anna Karenina, Madame Bovary, Cousin Bazilio, La Princesse de Clèves…

“Do you think we can use this one?” Dave’s smooth voice broke his reverie, the sweet memories of his high school self crying by the foot of his recuperacoon after turning the last page of a classic novel. Dave reached toward him a thick and old book that had the words _music theory_ on the cover alongside some others, so Karkat nodded. Sure, this looked great. He was barely aware of what they were doing.

Dave didn’t seem very impressed at that, though.

“Look, Karkat, I get it. You’re playing the servant, because I’m a human, and picked you, a troll, to be my partner, no weird sex stuff intended, and now you think I’m your boss or whatever, but I’m really not. You don’t work for me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dave. I might not work for you, but there’s an etiquette that I have to follow when around you, anyway, and I’m just doing that.”

“Well, you can stop it. Just be yourself.”

“That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard.”

Dave clicked his tongue, shaking his head, nonplussed. His round teeth looked nice, his tongue almost showed. Karkat kind of wanted to fucking kiss him.

Yikes.

“What do you get pretending to be my servant? I have nothing to offer you.”

He actually did, but that option wasn’t orthodox, and Karkat would rather never go there, ever, not realistically speaking. Dave looked good, and that was where he drew the Goddamn line.

“I don’t care, Dave. I’m not about to let the world see me as incapable of acting how I’m supposed to just because you don’t give a shit if I do. That’ll fuck me over in the end, so just play along, alright? Act the part like the rest of us.”

“What part?”

“The all powerful, respectable, conquering human that you actually, truly are. It can’t be that difficult for you to just be yourself.”

“That’s not who I am.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t.” Dave sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He looked adorable even when vexed to death. “That’s rich people, Karkat. Rich people with enough money to hire and house trolls to be their servants like some sort of post-modern monarchy from the nineteen hundreds. Why do you think only the White House, companies and millionaires actually have trolls at their disposal? Do you really think I should be compared to them? I’m their slave as much as you are. In the end, both of us will be working for the system, the only difference is that you’ll be wiping floors at a mansion while I do the same at the McDonald’s down the street.”

His brows lifted, his mouth ran wordless for a moment there. Dave tilted his head down just so Karkat could see his eyes over the rim of the sunglasses, two intensely red orbs trained on him, knocking the wind right out of his lungs with their sight.

“We’re not so different.”

He said nothing to that, only watched Dave fix the shades back over his eyes and start toward the study hall, his own body tagging behind out of instinct. This whole thing felt as if the excerpt of a dream.

They walked over to the desks and sat among the trolls to do the research. Everyone turned around to look, as was expected, when Dave took a seat in the portion of the room solely inhabited by the trolls, but he, himself, didn’t seem to mind that. His seat, the looks, anything. He sat down with a perfectly blank face, opened the book on the table, and pushed half of it over to Karkat, in order for the two of them to work together. Karkat did his part in a sort of reality grasp, where nothing felt real, yet his hands were writing and his eyes were reading. He was a ghost.

As they finished, he stacked the papers neatly together with both of their names on the cover and gave them to Dave, to be handed in. Dave took their work all the way down the hall to the teacher while he put the book back in its shelf, then left for lunch.

To his utmost surprise, they met again, a minute later, in the center of the hallway. He thought that they wouldn’t see each other again until next week, and was actually just going to meet up with his friends outside, so it was something of a surreal sight to watch Dave walk up to him, meeting him halfway. They stopped in front of each other.

“Yeah?” He asked, because, if Dave had come to him, then there must’ve been a reason for that. Dave, on the other hand, just shrugged loosely.

“Nothing, she didn’t say anything. Just put it in a pile with the others.”

That wasn’t what he had been asking about, but, sure. It was nice to know that their professor hadn’t just straight up thrown their work into the trash bin, like she should have.

Dave didn’t offer anything else, and he didn’t know what to do, either, other than nod in silence and just stand there like a tool. His heart skipped a beat, he glanced around. There was no one in the hallways, all students still in their classrooms. A quick glance at the wall clock confirmed his suspicions, that lunch wasn’t until ten minutes from now, but his class had been dismissed a little bit early, after finishing their work, so. Why was Dave still here? He turned to look at the white boy before him with dozens of questions in mind but none out of his mouth. He was learning.

“Cool hoodie. Where did you get it?” Dave asked briefly, airily, with a detached tone reserved for conversationalists. Karkat felt himself raise his own shoulders in response to it, suddenly defensive for no logical reason. The question had been innocent and, yet, it had pushed a button.

“Thanks, I stole it.”

“For real?”

“Yes.”

Dave lifted his brows in mild surprise.

It wasn’t worth mentioning that the owner had been passed out at the time, and the hoodie had been over his shoulders for the last few hours before that, and he had simply walked out with it and never returned it. He wore it every single day of his life, a single blur of bright purple like a singled out LED pixel amid the other trolls in the building, but it didn’t smell like the owner anymore, and it was still too big for him, it’d always be, and it was dumb, stupid to wear this all the time, but it was chilly out, and also inside, always, and he didn’t like to brandish the bright of his red on his back like a target. Not a single lowblood did. Those without choice wore black instead, while he just wore this, and nobody cared. The authorities had never stopped him, had never called him out on it, so he just kept wearing it. It was entirely his, now. He had never tried to give it back and the owner had never approached him for it, either. Could trash really have been stolen, or was it just taken?

“Do you have plans today, for lunch?” Dave asked. That must’ve been why he hadn’t just up and left after handing in the paper.

Karkat thought of his friends, and the cafeteria, and the highblood watching after. He shook his head.

“Nope, none at all. Why?”

“I dunno, I just thought, if you want, we could go to that Subway down the block, and eat there together.”

“Are you asking me out?”

The question was mostly a joke, just to see the color of Dave’s face change, just to throw him off his perfectly blasé game, get a response out of him, a stagger, anything. Affect him in some way or form, and it worked. Dave’s cheeks reddened, his shoulders tensed. Karkat smirked.

“Uh, no! Not at all. No. I’m just asking this as a friend thing. You don’t have to say yes.”

A friend thing. Sure, whatever. A laid-back friend thing. Just a friend thing.

It didn’t sound right, but he decided against confronting that.

“Alright, let’s have a friend thing at Subway, Dave. Just you and me, man, having a sweet friend thing together for the next half hour.”

Dave’s following silence to that was enough evidence to show his regret for having clarified himself in the first place. Karkat suppressed a massive grin as they started down the hallway side-by-side.

On the way out, they passed by his friends, a ways off from the path, standing around under the shade of a tree, probably waiting for him to regroup. Dave didn’t seem to have noticed them, or, maybe, he just didn’t know that Karkat hung out with those guys, thus didn’t stop to spare a glance. Karkat, on the meanwhile, saw the four watch them walk past, as if in the slow-motion of a movie, and stared right back, unflinching, with a middle finger up, for good measure. Sollux smirked at him, Dammek flipped him off in return, and the other two just stared, Xefros wide-eyed, and Aradia unimpressed, as he left for his “friend thing” with a human.

Subway was packed, but they managed to order, pay, and find a nice, isolated booth by the back corner. They sat across from each other, with green trays underneath their sandwiches, and ate. It was during those few minutes of silent munching that the full gravity of the situation at present dawned on him, making him bring forth his medium coke to wash down the knot in his throat with. Having lunch with a human was the last thing that he had ever imagined would happen to him, in the whole of his life, because, well, it wasn’t _supposed_ to happen. It wasn’t a thing that happened, unless, of course… But that wasn’t the case. Right? It wasn’t the case. This friend thing wasn’t _that_ at all. Dave literally denied that this was a date in the first place, so, no. It was fine. He wasn’t… This wasn’t… He gulped on the coke faster, having the grub of his sandwich dissolve in his stomach with a painful twist.

“If you had to rate the levels of non-romance of this totally friendly lunch…” Dave started, balling up the wrappers, napkins and other trash of his tray into a single mess. “From one to ten, one being the equivalent of a candlelit dinner on the outside of a little Parisian bistro, under the open night sky of a warm summer evening, with a privileged view of the Eiffel Tower from across the Seine, all lit up with sparkling lights, a rose on the table and love in our eyes, and ten being two super jacked, super pumped bros that just finished a sick workout session together for their morning bro-time before skating to work in their matching backwards snapbacks, mirror shades and sleeveless tanktops, the ones that have the really thin straps and big arm holes that barely cover the nipples, how would you rate our time right now?”

He took all of that in for a careful second of consideration.

“You can’t honestly tell me that bros in matching snapbacks working out together are the epitome of heterosexuality.”

“No, and they aren’t, but they’re the epitome of friendship.”

“Right… Yeah. Okay, we’re a solid seven, then. I mean, the homosexual undertones are definitely here, we’re only just missing the matching clothes, really.”

Dave nodded in pensiveness.

“That sounds about right.”

Including the homosexuality part? That had mostly been a joke, but, uh. Shit. Good to know.

“I don’t see why two bros wouldn’t be able to share a nice candlelit dinner in Paris, though.”

“Well, I don’t know. I’m not saying that they can’t, it’s just that Paris is the capital of romance, right? Or whatever, and dinners out are notoriously romantic, too, so that just seemed, to me, like the most romantic setting I could come up with for a romantic thing. I mean, you have a point. I just, I don’t know. I’ve never been on a date so I don’t know jack shit about that.”

“What, you’ve never been on a date? You’re shitting me.”

“No, I’m serious.”

His pulse altered. Dave, untouched? Sweet, innocent, date-free Dave, a child so pure, so good, at his table? That couldn’t have been true. Dave didn’t look like a virgin.

He wasn’t sure why his mind went straight there, but he’d roll with it.

Virgin Dave. Honestly?

“You’ve never dated anyone?”

“Not really. You?”

“Uh.” Fuck. “Once.” Shit.

Dave nodded in that cool and detached way of his, barely present, just aloof enough to seem disinterested, but actually drinking up every last word, and taking in every little detail. At least, it was what Karkat figured, because Dave led the life and personality that he so ardently wished to achieve, if only he wasn’t so filled to the brim with bursts of anger and very strong, livid emotions every other second. It was a dream.

Anyway, change of subject, and back to the fact that Dave had probably never kissed anyone at plain eighteen years of age. Supposedly. Speculation based on the fact that they shared two classes this semester, so Dave should share his age.

“You’re very forward for a person who’s never been with anyone before.” That played back to Dave having a crush on him, pairing up with him for the project, then asking him out for a “friendly” lunch. It was also the reason why his mind had such a hard time connecting the word virgin to the face behind the aviators, but, then again, this sort of confidence was probably just a human thing.

Trolls were nothing but possessions to be conquered, after all.

Karkat’s shoulders dropped.

“Well, I’ve been with someone before, we just weren’t, you know, dating or anything. It wasn’t a, uh, an official thing.”

That made more sense. The word virgin didn’t belong to that face at all.

“Right. How did that go?”

“About as well as you could’ve expected.”

“Same here.”

“It was my fault, actually. I screwed up.”

“You got dumped?”

“Well, it kind of went both ways. We just agreed on putting that whole thing to a stop.”

“Huh. I guess, in the end, that’s always the case.”

Dave shrugged. “You learned something from your breakup, at least?”

Yes. Oh, yes. Oh, absolutely yes.

“Sure, you?”

“I think so.”

A pause.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” He offered.

Talking of his trauma was something that he never did, and wouldn’t do today, obviously, not with a human, either, much less in public and in broad daylight, but he was curious to know more of what had gone on with Dave, and would just make his part very, very brief, very vague. Actually, legitimately talking about this, in his opinion, was something reserved for the next screwed up moirallegiance that should come his way, if at all, ever.

Dave watched him from behind the shades.

“Okay.” Another pause, briefer this time. “But I have to tell you about something else first, to really drive the point home. It’s a short story that happened to me a long time ago.”

“Alright.” This was the exact kind of exposition that he wanted to hear. His ears perked up with his attention.

“So, freshman year, I only had two friends in high school, a guy that I’ve known all of my life, and a girl that I met in elementary school. Miraculously, we managed to stay friends throughout all of those years. Anyway, freshman year, the girl says she likes me, and she does it in a really cute way, too, like, she pulls me aside one day, right after gym, so I’m all sweaty and gross and I _feel_ disgusting, and she’s all pretty, long hair combed back, smelling like flowers and stuff, you know, the perfection of girls in general, and she says she’s been meaning to ask me to the dance. I don’t know if you have that in troll school, but--”

“We don’t, but don’t waste your time explaining it to me. I don’t care, and from the name, I get what it is. Go on.”

He literally couldn’t have been more unpleasant if he had wanted to, and this was anything if not a sure way to get thrown into rehab, but Dave never seemed to mind his impolite nature, how he cut the human off time and time again, and was rude the whole way through, entirely against code, wholly un-troll-like. Maybe that fit nicely with the whole kink thing, though. Maybe Dave really enjoyed being treated this way.

On second thought, he probably shouldn’t be going down that abstract path right now.

“Okay, so she asks me, and I’m like, fuck, I don’t like her this way. She’s so brave for telling me how she feels and I’m just going to be an asshole to her? I wasn’t going to lead her on, anyway, so I had to break her heart. It was bad, but she took it well, at least in front of me, and we tried to stay friends after that, but it was never really the same. Hanging out became weird and after a while we just lost touch. I don’t know. At this point, I only had one friend left, and this is what you really want to hear.”

His ears double perked.

“He and I, we go way back. We met a long time ago, in preschool, I think, and our friendship was the best. He was so dumb, the stuff he said, but he always aced his tests and managed to get his homework done before the teacher got to him. A genius in disguise, I guess. Anyway, I had a huge crush on him, obviously, and one day I just… Kissed him. I just fucking leaned over, we were on his bed, and I kissed him, and everything went downhill after that.”

“He pushed you off?”

“No, he kissed me back, and we got close, but the problem was that we didn’t know what we were doing. We had this thing together, but we were sixteen, and we didn’t know where it’d lead, or even if we wanted it to go anywhere. It lasted a while, the better portion of high school, but it wasn’t a real thing. We didn’t acknowledge or talk about it, we just fooled around sometimes. Like, we talked about the people from school who we wanted to date while making out on his couch, or who we’d be taking to prom that year while getting each other off on my bed, you know? Like, that’s fucking weird. That’s not a thing that happens.”

“That _is_ fucking weird.” His own voice sounded far away to his ears, his mind stuck on the mental image of the last described scene. It sounded, to him, like an unofficial matespritship not acknowledged by either party, but humans didn’t have these terms, so. “What do you call something like that?”

“Friends with benefits. I figured it out later, after we decided to stop doing what we were doing. The picture clears out once you’re out of frame and can look at it from the outside.”

“Makes sense.”

“Yeah. Moral of the story is, make lots of friends and don’t get with them, or you’ll end up by yourself.”

“Have you been doing that?”

“Well, we’re totally not on a date right now, so I think I’m learning.”

He raised a brow. Totally not a date, just some friendship stuff going on right here, no underlying plot to get with each other at all, just two bros sharing a candlelit dinner in the Paris of Houston.

“Your turn.” Dave pointed out.

Oh, right. His turn to be entirely vague and disappointing, coming right up.

“Okay, well. My story isn’t too different from yours, actually, but the screw-up wasn’t me, it was him. He was a weird motherfucker who, I think, never listened to a word that I said. We were supposed to help each other out, listen and support, you know? But he literally didn’t need me, he just got high at the first inconvenience that happened. The first little thing on the way, he got high to not think about it. I didn’t, and I needed him, but when I went to him with something, he was just baked, all the time. Not mentally present at all to help me with that.”

“Wait, so, he was your boyfriend, then? This was a real relationship, like, a real thing?”

“Yeah, not boyfriend, we were moirails, but you can call it whatever you want. I don’t give a shit.”

“No, tell me what that means.”

“Look it up later, dipshit. Let me finish the story.”

“Fine.”

“So, it got to a point where we didn’t have a connection anymore. I felt fucking useless because he didn’t need me, and angry because he didn’t fucking help me, either. Our whole thing was pointless. Being together was pointless. When we saw each other, we just…” No. No, nevermind. Not that part, just skip ahead. This was too much. He was already talking too much. “We broke up. I broke up with him, actually.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, that’s the end of it.”

“How long ago was that?”

“February.”

“Shit.”

“I’m fine now.” He really, actually, literally wasn’t, as evidenced by how therapeutic this had been, just now, to have let some of it out. He had needed that, and _much_ more than that, but Dave wasn’t the one to listen, and this wasn’t the place to do this. “What about your thing?”

“That was a couple of years ago.”

“Right… Wait.” The better portion of high school, wasn’t that what Dave had said? The last semester of high school had literally been four months ago. “Two years ago?”

“Yeah, I graduated a year before you and your class.”

“Oh, so you took a gap year, then.”

“Sure, you could call it that.”

He stared, waiting for an explanation, but Dave didn’t elaborate. Instead, he pulled out his phone, and changed the subject.

“Spell out moirails for me.”

“Just type it as you say it, moron. It’s not difficult.”

“Maybe not for you who grew up with it.”

“Alright, it goes F-U-C-K-Y-O--”

“Shut up, I get it. I _got_ it. Let me read this article.”

He had to stop himself from grinning at that, because being the rude and obnoxious asshole that he was to his friends on a day-to-day basis with Dave didn’t get him in trouble. Instead, it was just funny. It still felt like pushing his luck, though, but Dave never mentioned it, and just treated him like any of his friends would, which helped normalize this wholly abnormal scenario that shouldn’t even be happening in the first place.

While Dave read on his phone, he decided to make himself useful and clean up his mess, so he grabbed his medium coke and got up from his seat, took the tray over to the trash bin. Dave must’ve thought that he was leaving, though, because the guy practically shot up from his seat when Karkat stood. That made him drink from his cup around a grin, in an attempt to hide it. He watched Dave over the rim as the guy cleared out his own tray before joining Karkat by the trash bins.

“What does the article say?” He brought the cup down to speak. Dave had put his phone away.

“Something about two people killing each other.”

“You must’ve misspelled it.”

“I guess so.”

They left the restaurant and started back toward the campus, Karkat leisurely sipping on his drink and Dave accompanying him with both hands in his pockets. He looked nice in red, Karkat noticed, staring very openly at the side of his face offered to him, his profile. The color matched well against the white of his skin, the blonde of his hair. The freckles on his cheeks, the see-through hue of his neck… Dave looked good. He was the kind of kid all too easy to fall for, smooth-talking and breathtakingly beautiful, the exact recipe for danger and disaster that Karkat always and actively tried to avoid. It was the reason why he had gone for a social outcast in the past instead of someone popular and gorgeous with an array of followers, but even _that_ hadn’t worked out for him, had it? Maybe his logic was faulty. Maybe he should just stop trying. Maybe this hadn’t even been a date in the first place.

Dave glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, and, from this angle, Karkat saw that. It shocked him to the very core, so powerfully that he couldn’t even have the decency to look away and play the pretend game that this hadn’t happened.

“What?” Dave asked, to make it all worse. “You’re staring. Am I that mesmerizing?”

“You’d be so lucky.” He huffed, trying to cover up his embarrassment in any way available. Dave’s knowing smirk, however, made that an impossibility.

“Guess I’m just lucky enough.”

Was Dave actually hitting on him this time? He scowled.

“You know, Dave, I don’t get you. I don’t get this whole thing, the partnership thing, the friend non-date thing. Nothing that’s going on with us right now makes any sense, but it’s not obviously weird, either, it’s just unsettling enough to fuck me up. Sometimes it feels like I’m hallucinating your entire existence.”

“Huh, I’ve never been told that before.”

“Yeah, of course not, because you’ve only ever had _human_ friends, and human interactions, and humans all around you. That makes you a person with no self-awareness when faced with the different. I mean, why do you think the human kids paired up with each other and you were the only idiot who picked out a troll? By the way, not sure you want to know this or not, but everyone in class thinks you’re a troll fetishist now. Just… Letting you know.”

Dave frowned. He didn’t look as affected by this bit of information as Karkat honestly thought that he would’ve been. Surprising, even if it probably should’ve been expected.

“I mean, I knew I was crossing some sort of line with that, I just didn’t know exactly what it was. I don’t get why we can’t chill together, the trolls and the humans who will never be rich enough to hire them, if we’re basically just more of the same.”

“Because we’re _not_ more of the same. Your race systematically oppresses mine on a day-to-day basis and has been doing so not only through a troll hatred integrated in society, hatred and prejudice taught in segregated schools to the very young, but also just by artificially breeding us from a fucking tube, which takes away our humanity, our culture, what makes us all equals. I mean, just the fact that there isn’t a troll equivalent to the word _humanity_ proves my point.”

“Yeah, you’re right, and I’m not saying that’s invalidated or anything, I’m just trying to find a single reason to ever comply to the system and go along with its teachings, treating your kind like trash and whatever. Even if you don’t believe that I see you as a person and not an acquirable possession, adhering to the caste system still wouldn’t benefit me personally. I’m just saying, if the government wants me to play along acting like an almighty god next to you guys, then they should give me some incentive, because, right now, befriending you sounds like a more profitable option. But social interactions aren’t a business and why are we even talking about this, anyway?”

Karkat gave him a look.

If Music was Dave’s Major, then he was pursuing the wrong one.

“No reason. You just told me you think of me as an individual being and I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“Was that a weird thing to say?”

“No, not at all, it was just… It was the nicest thing any human’s ever said to me.”

“Man, if that’s true, then we really gotta clean up our act, ‘cause this shit ain’t cute.”

They reached a building in the corner of campus that pretty much only trolls inhabited, since the classes held here were hotel management, housekeeping, room service, and any other of the same kind, the hand-picked professions for trolls who, instead of getting paid in money, received housing and food and the bare minimum of living conditions. The humans had no interest in attending classes over on this side.

Their non-date had come to an end.

“You said you’ve been taking selfies of every new thing that you try out, right?” He asked, vaguely recalling the unasked for exposition from yesterday. Dave lifted his brows some, as if somewhat surprised that he had actually been listening at the time.

“Yeah.”

“Then shouldn’t you be taking a selfie right now?”

A stare.

“I guess you’re right.”

Dave pulled out the film camera and slid up next to him for a fake ass grin that looked adorable on that stupid human face of his. Last time had been a disaster, but this time Karkat was ready, and managed not to blink with the flash, even if he felt as awkward as ever through the taking of the picture. Progress. Dave put the camera back into his bag, offering him a genuine smile while stepping back to leave.

“I’ll see you next week, then?”

“Sure.”

Dave visibly hesitated. He seemed to have something on his mind, and was at a crossroads about it, whether or not he should act on it. A farewell gesture? Was that it, giving him trouble? A kiss, maybe? Karkat watched him expectantly, having seen this scene play out so many times before in the movies, the cheesy ones with humans falling in love and getting themselves in dumb situations only to impress the other. He felt as if starring in one of them, in this very moment. His breathing hitched, his lungs had doubled up in size from the expectation, but Dave ultimately decided against it, and simply stepped back instead. His lungs deflated. Dave waved him goodbye.

He waved back with visible lethargy, watching Dave walk away.

He honestly shouldn’t have been feeling so crushed by that. A kiss, honestly? Where had that even come from? It wouldn’t have made any sense if Dave had gone through it, which probably wasn’t even what had been in his mind at the time. This lunch had just been two starkingly different people socializing because Dave had wanted to get to know him, like he had mentioned before. Humans always got what they wanted in the end, as evidenced by whatever that had just happened, so Dave should be about ready to move on now and never see him again. He threw the empty cup into the trash and shoved both hands into his pockets, turning to enter the building. Lessons on how to set a table awaited him.


	3. On loop, old friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight TW for suspicions of abuse.

“Where did you go for lunch?” Sollux asked him through a whisper, scooting up closer in their tiny chairs with half of a desk on the arm. The only bright side of having two classes with the humans in the morning was the proper chairs and desks that they had. These were a joke next to those. 

“Nowhere your nosy ass should care about.” 

“Did you go back to his place? Does he have twelve bathrooms and an indoor pool? A dog? Did you meet the trolls who work there?” 

“I didn’t visit, we barely left campus.” 

“Damn, KK, that eager? Couldn’t even wait to get there?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Sollux, I swear to God.” 

“Did he make you a trophy troll in the alleyway across the street?”

He got up from his seat immediately, and walked down the row, taking the last empty chair by Xefros instead. His blood was fire in its veins, his heart was beating too fast, and his scowl was so deep in between his brows that his forehead hurt. He sat down, to no acknowledgement from the professor or anyone in class, and huffed in silence. If he looked down four seats, he’d have seen Sollux’s shit-eating grin splitting his dumb fucking face in half. 

Sollux could rot for all he cared. 

“What happened?” Xefros asked him quietly, in his best attempt at not disturbing the lecture. Karkat breathed out, and let his nerves calm some, before answering. 

“Sollux being a disgusting piece of shit, as usual.” 

Xefros offered him a worried look in reply, but Karkat’s eyes soon dropped from his sympathetic face to Dammek’s possessive arm across the back of his seat, Dammek’s hand just shy of touching Xefros’ upper arm. Karkat’s scowl remained, now for a separate reason. 

“Did he ask where you were? Can I ask you that?” Xefros whispered, leaning a bit closer to him. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” 

“I just had lunch with the human, was that not obvious enough?” He snapped, but in something of a calm manner, where, instead of shouting, he used a low, harsh tone. It made Xefros frown all the same. 

“Is he not entirely bad, at least?” 

“No, he’s fine, but I don’t think we’ll be partners anymore. He’ll probably be with someone else next week.” 

“Why?” 

He shrugged. “He got what he wanted, so why would he stick around?” 

Xefros’ eyes widened, horrified, mortified. Even the color paled from his face. 

Karkat waved a dismissive hand in the air. 

“No, dammit, why do all of you think we slept together? We didn’t. He just wanted to meet a troll.” 

Xefros exhaled, shoulders relaxed now. He leaned back on his seat, onto the arm that crossed his back, and had Dammek throw that across his shoulders instead, nearly around his neck, in a lock. A collar. That made Karkat’s teeth threaten to bare from his repulsion, so he just turned to face the front of the class, where the professor spoke of cutlery. 

The rest of the week went by fast, with classes taking up the entirety of the day and much of nothing going on during dinner, even more nothing before bed. His friends made plans to get together this weekend and scout the area for a nice, inconspicuous place to have their meetings at, since Dammek’s follower base had been growing a nice amount ever since they had been moved to 27-A. His ideas were stupid, and nothing he said was good enough to be taken into action, but he spoke with conviction, filled with passion to the brim, which reached into the hearts of the lowbloods that adored him and successfully moved them into adhering to the revolution. Karkat only attended the meetings every once in a while, when he had absolutely nothing better to do. Mostly, he went to spend time with his friends, as an alternative to staying in his room alone. 

That weekend wound up being unproductive and annoying. They couldn’t manage to find anywhere better than an abandoned warehouse, which was far too obvious to hold a revolutionary embryo in, so Dammek resorted to hosting their meetings at an Irish pub two blocks down, after class but before curfew, next Friday. The owner was a human, but most of the customers were trolls, and since they wouldn’t be having anything alcoholic, it should be fine. They probably wouldn’t be asked for ID’s or barred in any way. It was what they hoped. 

That night, after they had all gone back to the building, dined and bid their goodnights, Karkat walked in on something that he wished he hadn’t. His towel and shower kit were balled up in his arms, his wet fringe still clung to his forehead from moments ago, and as he opened a sliver of his bedroom door, he paused. He bunked with Xefros, and Dammek was very often around, but never like this, in the dark, pressed up against Xefros, so close. Karkat’s heart hammered through his ribs, echoed loudly in his ears. He couldn’t feel his fingers, couldn’t tear his eyes away, watched Dammek single-handedly destroy his moirallegiance from a few feet away, unable to do anything about it. Dammek had a hand on Xefros’ cheek, their mouths were sealed together, the both of them were sitting inside a pile made of pillows. Karkat couldn’t breathe,  _ this _ kind of shit in sacred ground? He shuddered. The noises of their kissing, and everything that it entailed, grossed him out to such an unimaginable degree that the spell was broken, and he pulled the door back closed. 

Someone needed to auspisticize this trainwreck of a crumbling relationship, but he literally wasn’t going to. He’d do anything but that. His heart went out to Xefros as he took the stairs up to the fourth floor instead, the coward’s way out. Luckily, Sollux was there to let him in. 

First, he dropped everything from his arms onto the floor, then he followed it all with his own body, laying on his face, breathing into the carpet. This whole show would’ve been far more dramatic if he weighed more, or were taller, or bigger in any sense of the word, but this was the most that he could offer, and would have to do. A plume gently dropping onto the ground. His eyes were closed and couldn’t see it, but he was sure that Sollux looked underwhelmed while closing the door. 

“What is it?” Sollux asked, for once not sounding like an insensible jerk. In response, Karkat huffed from the carpet, resembling a dying animal. 

“Nothing.” He murmured, then flipped over, on his back. The ceiling of Sollux’s premium room was water stained in the corner. 

“Seriously, what happened?” Sollux spoke while sitting down next to his body, cross-legged, almost looking serious, which was a rare occurrence for him. “Was it the human?” 

“No, I haven’t seen him since last Wednesday.” 

“But he didn’t do anything to you, right?” 

“No.”

“Are you lying? Don’t cover for him.” 

“I’m not lying and I’d never cover for him. You know that.” 

“Then what happened?” 

“Nothing.”

This whole situation, and the fact that he had nobody to tell it to, made him want to scream. Sollux wasn’t his moirail, and he wasn’t even supposed to be here, whining on the ground like a desperate grub, but he had nowhere to go, kicked out of his own room, and Sollux was the closest troll to him, emotionally speaking, even if they absolutely despised each other, however platonic that was, and would remain to be. He literally shouldn’t be here, seeking Sollux out like this, and if Aradia knew, she’d probably club him upside the head. He sighed, covering his face with both hands. He didn’t have a single person to talk to,  _ really _ talk to, and that, still, after months, still brought him to regret the best decision ever made in his life. 

Despite everything, not having a moirail weighed. 

He thought of Xefros, innocent, defenseless Xefros, being taken advantage of in this exact moment, with nobody to help him out of it, no one to tear Dammek away before irreversible damage had been done. Walking in on them had felt like watching his own life being played on a stage, with actors in place of the actual trolls involved, and less drugs, less lighting, more witnesses. He felt sick. It came from not having done anything about it, willingly and consciously walking out from a healthy, and highly necessary, auspisticism. 

He looked up at Sollux’s blank face through his fingers. 

“I can’t be here.” He whispered, and it was true. Sollux knew that, too, but probably pitied him in some form or another to have let him inside anyway. He felt unbecoming, as if trying to push his way into an already filled quadrant of Sollux’s, when he really wasn’t trying to. He hoped Sollux wouldn’t tell his moirail about this. 

“You need someone, KK.” Sollux’s voice was quiet, and soft, a tone he very rarely used with anyone. “At least one quadrant.” 

“I know.” 

“Gamzee is in rehab, did you know that?” 

The name alone had his blood cooling, his stomach in knots. He shivered.

“I did.” 

“I’m not saying you should take him back as your palemate, but, who knows, he might make a good kismesis instead. Maybe even better than good.” 

He hugged himself, arms crossed over his chest, and hands gripping onto the sides of the hoodie. He tugged on it absently, claws digging into the sturdy fabric, would’ve loved to see it ripped to shreds. He couldn’t stop shivering. 

“I don’t know, Sollux.” 

“Rehab changes a troll. Have you been up to the sixth floor yet?” 

“No.”

“Then maybe you should.” 

No, he told himself, on the way out of Sollux’s room, he shouldn’t, and wouldn’t, go up to the sixth floor, ever, for as long as he lived. No, he thought to himself, while clutching his things to his chest, meandering over to the stairway shaft, he absolutely wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t talk to him again, didn’t even want to see his face until the day that his decaying corpse rotted to completion in an unmarked, communal grave.  _ No, _ he screamed at himself, his mind in chaos, as his treacherous legs curved the stairway shaft and went for the elevator instead. No, he begged, to no avail, watching his own hand press the button and his inevitable self-sabotage take him two floors up. This was a mistake. Immediately, a mistake. He braced himself. 

The sixth floor looked about the same as every other floor, except friendly conversation flowed from the very end of the hallway, and cigarette smoke filled the air. Karkat walked in, slowly, carefully, watchful for any funny business, any crazy motherfucker with an agenda, anyone about to jump him. His big eyes doubled, attentive, as he treaded down the hallway toward the conversation, the smoke, the breeze of fresh air wafting in through the open balcony. A balcony? They had a balcony here? He hugged his towel close, watching the light of the last, apparently communal, room, at the end of the hallway, glow brighter. He stepped into the archway. 

A dozen or so highbloods were lazing about on a couple of couches, some on the floor, chatting with each other languidly, not doing much of anything. Some were checking their phones, some were dozing off, some were just talking. Gamzee was on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes focused squarely on Karkat’s face. He felt his heart leap for his throat, then try for the ribs, then bounce around erratically, making it difficult to breathe. His jaw set, he swallowed. Gamzee looked nonplussed and just blinked at him, eyes half-lidded, as per usual, just not from any narcotic this time, but something else. Something scarier. Karkat took another step in, got a few disinterested looks from the highbloods, and nothing else. No one kicking him out, or singling him out, or paying him any attention. He exhaled. 

“What’s up, my brother?” Gamzee’s voice was low and raspy and it sent shivers up his back. He hadn’t heard it in months. His cheeks colored from being  _ noticed _ by this guy and he felt fucking dumb for it. 

“Hi.” 

His brain drew a blank on the whole of the English vocabulary and he suddenly didn’t know what else to say. Self-conscious in Gamzee’s hoodie and holding his shower kit ridiculously wrapped up in a wet towel, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, speechless otherwise. Gamzee just watched him from the couch, brows slightly raised. A couple of trolls walked back in from the balcony and he eyed it, the sliding glass doors, open. He looked back at Gamzee. 

“Can we talk?” 

Gamzee had followed his eyes, and got up from his seat, to see him outside. 

There were only a couple of people smoking by the far right end of the balcony, so the two of them went to the left, leaned across from each other, Gamzee against the wall and Karkat with his waist on the railing. A light breeze swept past, making his shoulders rise, and his hands hold the towel tighter. Gamzee, in only a thin shirt and pajama pants, didn’t even shiver. 

“Haven’t seen you in a minute, my sweet motherfucking friend. Where’ve you been?”

“Away from you.” 

His choice of words were vile, but they were spoken in a soft, almost compassionate tone. He wasn’t angry, hadn’t been in a long time, not about this. Not about what had happened between them. He hadn’t had time to heal yet, but had had time enough for the anger to mellow out into deep, deep dejection. Dejection that clawed at his heart and left a hole in his chest. The memories still ached, and their repercussions still strongly affected his day-to-day, but he wasn’t angry. He really wasn’t, not anymore. 

Gamzee grinned, tired, maybe in mock delight. At this point, Karkat really couldn’t tell, and he wasn’t sure that he liked it either way. 

“Sometimes I see you in the field, you know, watching from behind the fence.” 

“Yeah, my friends like to watch Eridan work out.” 

“Just Eridan?”

The question mocked him, it made his jaw set, and his eyes cut deep into the purple of Gamzee’s own, sharp and pointed.

“Just Eridan.” Spoken like poison dripping from his teeth.

“Alright.” 

Just like that, whatever that had flared up in him a second ago entirely dissipated, leaving an ache behind, and dropping his eyes down to the floor. The breeze swept again, and he shivered, his cheeks packed color. He shouldn’t be here. 

“What’s wrong?” Gamzee asked in that gentle tone of his, only used under the dim lighting of his room, and inside a big pile of pillows and blankets and any other comfortable item to lay on. The voice that whispered into Karkat’s hair when his face was hidden on the crook of his moirail’s neck, his body warm and safe in Gamzee’s embrace. His lips quivered, his chest hurt. 

“I don’t know.” He answered, quietly, still not meeting with Gamzee’s eyes. His throat closed and his eyes burned. “I don’t know, Gamzee, I’m so…” 

“Lonely?”

His eyes snapped up immediately, wide, his lungs filled up with surprise, his lips parted wordless. He had been struck by lightning and his body couldn’t move. Gamzee’s lazy grin remained. 

“It’s all good, brother. There’s no shame in that. All of us get swallowed up and spit back out at one point or another, we can’t put a finger on it. They’ve got me, too, you know. You’re not so special.” 

His brows creased lightly. 

“What…?” 

“They got me, bro.” 

Gamzee unlaced his arms and reached one over, to show the inside of his elbow, and the track marks that adorned the skin there. Karkat’s scowl deepened. 

“What? I thought you were in rehab. What the fuck is this?” 

“I  _ am _ in rehab. This is what they do to you there. Don’t you know what happens in the sterilized rooms?” 

He stared, dumb, scared. Suddenly very afraid to know what his ex-friend had been put through. 

Realistically, he didn’t actually know what went on in there. All that they had been taught in elementary school was that misbehaving trolls were sent there to calm down and relearn to act rationally. Rehabilitation Center, where they rehabilitated trolls back to their former, sane, code-respecting, human-respecting, rational selves. 

“They suck the life out of you, my friend. Did you know? The needle comes in, and you go into a deep sleep, and when you wake up again, you’re somebody else. Your brain just isn’t your own anymore; the voices in your head sound like somebody else’s. You’re someone new, now. Rediscover yourself.” 

“They dope you?” 

“You’re not a problem when you’re asleep.” 

He frowned, watching Gamzee slip both hands into the pockets of his sweats. He actually looked doped right now. Karkat squinted. 

“Are you high?” 

“No… I’m medically harmless.” 

“So you’re high.” 

“I’m  _ harmless _ now, Karkat. Bro. I’m motherfucking harmless now. I can be among the people, I can play football. I can be who they want me to be.” 

“And who’s that?” 

“Just a non-capricious Capricorn sold for millions of dollars to some rich motherfucker with a football team in Seattle. I’m living the life, brother. I’m living the life that they manufactured for me.” 

His heart skipped. “Did you actually get sold, already?” 

Gamzee snorted, a mock and entirely joyless smile spread on his face. “No, of course not. I’m a bad example. Only trolls like Eridan get sold; actually sober, actually harmless. Pretty and athletic. I’ll be lucky if the military takes me in.” 

His frown hurt on his forehead. Gamzee was brutally right and it stung, the reality of it stung. In two years, Sollux would be devastated. 

“How’s servitude school going?” 

Gamzee’s question sounded like a joke. Faced with this, all of his personal problems seemed stupid now; immaterial when compared to what all of the highbloods went through. He felt small. 

“Fine.” 

“They made a contract on the lot of you yet?” 

“No, not yet.” 

“You’re not here to talk about this, though, are you? For some company, brother, anything, I bet.” 

“No, I…” He faltered, his words escaped. That was right, but he’d never be able to own up to it. He bit his tongue. “I wanted to know how you were doing.” 

“Why? Do you miss me?” 

“I don’t.” 

He did, actually. When the weekends came and he didn’t have anyone to watch the sunset with. When the winter brought ice cold wind and he didn’t have a single person to cuddle with, to make hot cocoa for, to watch movies under a pile of blankets. When it rained and he had no one to nap with to the sound of droplets hitting the windowpanes. When something deeply bothered him and he couldn’t tell it to anyone, couldn’t open up to anyone, couldn’t get comforted the way that he so desperately needed to be comforted. When nights fell and the cruel reality of his loneliness hit him like a ton of bricks dropped onto his chest, knocking the wind right out of his lungs, welling his eyes up with tears. 

He didn’t miss Gamzee, but he missed having someone there, arms that would envelop him in warm hugs, words to reminded him of his worth, a heart that beat to the synchrony of his very own, that loved him, too. Someone who cared. 

That person wasn’t Gamzee. Hadn’t been in a long time. 

He pushed himself off of the railing, a step closer to his ex-best friend. 

“I have to go.” Spoken small and quiet. He hoped that, by now, Dammek was done ruining his moirail’s life, and he could go back to his room for a night’s sleep. Let this all dissipate and disappear. 

Gamzee tilted his head minutely aside, watching him with something of a curious stare. “Are you still mad at me?” 

The question made his heart ache. 

“No, but that doesn’t make you exempt or forgiven. I’m just over you.” 

Gamzee nodded absently. 

“I have to go.” He repeated himself, actually walking out this time, back into the common room where the highbloods’ chatter continued, lazy and low. He listened to Gamzee’s footfalls follow him inside. 

“If you need to talk, I’m room six-one-oh.” Gamzee’s raspy voice reached him from above, but he didn’t turn around. Didn’t react to it. He just kept on walking straight past every troll and every door, down the hallway and into the elevator, with nothing but blank static filling his mind, a better choice than most thoughts that usually occurred to him at this hour. The elevator doors slid closed with a noise and he collapsed against the back wall, his throat constricted, and his chest heaving. 

This had definitely been a bad idea. 

Arriving at his room, he didn’t go in. First, he pressed his ear to the door and listened. Nothing, silence, complete silence. His heart skipped a beat; so it was over. He turned the knob and let himself in, his eyes roaming the darkness of the room for any shadows, any two silhouettes close together, on each other, but nothing. He saw nothing. A portion of the room was lit up by moonlight, allowing him to make out the outlines of the recuperacoon bunk, the dresser, the wardrobe, and not a single troll. Xefros had the top bunk. He closed the door, put his belongings away, and while crossing the room to his cocoon, caught a glimpse of the bucket. Full, glinting under the moonlight, partially hidden behind the dresser. His stomach churned. 

That night, he dreamed of Xefros, and the inevitable that he hadn’t stopped from happening. 


	4. Functional failure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Optional NSFW in-between chapter: [Flip For Him](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12780708).

His eyes naturally fell on Dave as the humans walked into the classroom and leisurely picked their seats before lecture began. With nothing in his brain, and nothing in his thoughts, he watched Dave amble down the aisle, all relaxed and casual, straight to the seat directly in front of him again, as if it had been assigned to him. Dave sat down and flashed him a friendly smile, the kind that he would love to feel pressed against his lips. In return, he blinked. Half of him was surprised that Dave still had any interest in being his partner, while the other half had expected nothing to change a week after their non-date.

“You good?” Dave asked from behind the aviators, voice smooth and calm, as usual. His permanent nonchalance pissed Karkat off, it made him incredibly jealous that someone could just breeze through life without having at least one breakdown a day, always laid-back and collected, not worried about a single thing in the universe, not in the slightest. Karkat could’ve strangled him.

“I’m good.”

The lecture passed by quickly, the teacher simply briefing them in what they were supposed to accomplish in this period. They were to read an article that she would hand out and write an essay based on it. Karkat didn’t mind that at all because, for as much as he was bad at writing, he was great at reading, even if it was some bullshit article about humans that he honestly couldn’t pretend to care less about. The pairs sat next to each other, each received a sheet, and went on to work on their joined essay. Dave leaned back on his chair. Their article was about Bach.

“I wish this class was interesting.”

“I wish you wouldn’t interrupt me while I’m reading.”

He didn’t have to tear his eyes away from the article to feel Dave’s stare burning the side of his face alive.

“My bad, but is it me, or is this class just not even trying? Everyone’s reading, so I guess it’s not so terrible. Maybe I just don’t care for ancient European composers in silly wigs and frilly ties as much as everybody else does.”

“Is it the silly wigs or the frilly ties?”

“I’m not sure but I can’t say that I’m not jealous of either.”

The mental picture of Dave in a white, curly wig with a frilly bib around his neck put a grin on Karkat’s face. He quickly killed it, though, as soon as it had formed, and turned to scowl at the human with the most pissed off expression that he could muster. Fortunately for him, he was an expert at that.

“Can you shut up and help me with this?” It was supposed to be vile and rude, but to his utmost chagrin, his voice was as loving as it had ever been, not to be helped. He checked himself a second later, avidly (and worryingly) hoping it would never happen again.

“Sorry, I’m mourning the loss of great fashion.”

“You’re a couple centuries too late for that.”

“Maybe, however--”

“Dave, just shut up, and it’s not maybe, it’s definitely. Now help me with this stupid essay so we can leave early.”

“Fine, but consider my feelings hurt.”

“I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Really?” There was an edge of interest in Dave’s voice that put a real scowl on his forehead this time around. In response to it, however, he simply rolled his eyes, ignoring the growing grin on the guy’s face, and deciding to not make a scene in class. Now that he knew what rehab was really about, it made him want to visit it all the less.

“Fuck you.” Real feelings from deep inside, probably the first time he had ever been genuine with this guy. “Read this shit with me.”

Their essay didn’t turn out to be the best, not in his opinion, but they finished it relatively soon, which was what he actually cared about. Dave handed it over to the teacher before following him outside, the two of them the only signs of life in the hallway at this hour. They still had twenty minutes before the bell rang. The two took the stairs down one flight and left the building entirely.

“Are you having lunch with us?” He asked, because, if Dave was so persistent in meeting trolls, then his friends were perfect examples of trollkind: annoying and repulsive, yet still better company than any and every human being roaming this planet. Dave considered his question.

“Who’s us?”

“Me and my friends. We eat at the cafeteria then do nothing until next period.”

“Alright, sounds cool.”

He grinned. This would determine just how strong Dave truly was, and how committed he seemed to be with this whole partnership thing. He had grown too comfortable around Karkat, too comfortable everywhere, feeling as if he owned the world and every room that he walked into, so having him for lunch would be a humbling lesson. If Dave really was interested in getting to know a troll or two, then this would be El Dorado for him. Karkat nodded at where Sollux and Aradia were waiting for the others and walked over, Dave in tow.

“Hey, guys. Guess who’s joining us for lunch today.” He spoke around a smirk, trying to keep his tone clear of teasing, but he wasn’t very committed at it.

“No way. Why?” Sollux’s voice easily showed his perplexity, and he frowned to emphasize it. Dave just directed the shades at him, emotionless façade perfectly checked behind it.

“Why not?” Voice stale, holding none of the affectionate edge that he used with Karkat, however slight, however near-imperceptive it was. That didn’t make an impression on Karkat right away, but it set some gears turning in his brain, some chains moving, some engines running, all the while drawing a sort of emotional blank from him.

“Because it’s a terrible idea.” Sollux continued. “People already think you’re a troll fucker, now they’re going to think you’re a sympathizer, too. Your reputation, or what’s left of it, will be thrown out the window with this, dude.”

“I don’t actually give a shit about that, so.” Sharp but smooth, like a knife wrapped in velvet cloth.

Sollux raised a brow in response to it. “Well, you should. This is the kind of stuff that kills a person’s career in a few years.”

Dave shrugged, offered nothing verbal to go with it, and ended the conversation right there. Brutal. Sollux stared at him blankly, then glanced over at the other two trolls, as if to make sure that they had heard this, too, and he wasn’t just hallucinating it. Karkat grinned; this had been a good idea.

“Is this some sort of self-destructive act?” Aradia asked.

“No, man, this is lunch.”

Dave’s deadpan tone made Aradia’s brows shoot up her forehead and future questions die in her mouth. She exchanged a silent look with Sollux instead of pushing it, and neither one of them said another word; their perplexed faces just watched Dammek and Xefros walk over, the two of them scowling at the back of Dave’s head out of utter confusion coupled with distaste during approach. This would be good. The only person who hated humans more than Karkat did was Dammek, as evidenced by his continuous plans to bring down the government and put forth the revolution, and his sheer determination toward all of that. His literal life goal. He stopped next to Dave; the only one tall enough to match the guy’s height. Dave flashed the shades over to him in acknowledgement.

“What are you doing here?” Dammek asked in his defensive tone, one that he very rarely used unless Xefros was under immediate threat. Karkat hadn’t heard it in a long time. Of course Dave’s presence alone was irritating, but that wasn’t what he wanted to see get discussed between the two, so he jumped in to cut Dave off and get this moving along.

“He’s having lunch with us today. I invited him.”

“Why?” Dammek addressed him next. “What exactly is going on between you two?”

“Nothing. I just invited him for lunch and he accepted the invitation, that’s all.”

“Do you have a problem with that?” Dave asked, meeting Dammek eye to eye. Dammek scowled hard at him in return, shades versus shades.

“Yeah, actually. I do. I don’t want a member of the oppressive class at my table.”

“What makes the oppressive class to you?”

Yes.

“Contemptible humans like you.”

_Yes._

“Alright, well, that’s a wide umbrella, under which the oppressive and the privileged meet, and intertwine, but don’t make synonyms. I’m privileged, not oppressive, but every oppressive asshole is privileged, too, so educate yourself before profiling who you don’t kn--”

Dammek lunged for Dave before the guy was finished talking.

Oh, God, no.

The surprise punch came at him fast, getting a gasp out of everyone in the circle, from such blatant disregard for the rules, literally the first rule of the troll code of servitude, violence against humans that could get Dammek thrown into rehab for years, admitted for anger management to become “medically harmless.” This could’ve gotten everybody else in trouble, too, who stood in place without moving a muscle to stop it. It had been so fast, and out of nowhere, that they couldn’t have had a way to predict it, but that was none of the higher court’s interest. Entirely disregarded. To their luck, Dave dodged the fist that had made for his face, and by the time the second one was thrown, all four trolls were onto Dammek, holding him back, pulling and pushing him away from the human. He tried to resist the hold some, but not too much. His friends weren’t the ones he was fighting against.

“Don’t _fucking_ patronize me!” Dammek shouted, gathering some attention from passersby, or possible eyewitnesses, in case this went any worse. His friends all slapped his mouth shut with their hands, and struggled to calm him down. They held his arms behind his back and pushed him down to the ground, his face into the dirt, his elbows in a painful lock. He didn’t really fight it, since his friends weren’t his target, and let himself be held down, only grunting from the pain in his arms, twisted into awkward angles.

They kept him there for a while, breathing loud and heavy into the ground, but successfully coming down, slowly, surely, as Xefros freaked out and whimpered from the sidelines at seeing his beloved moirail all twisted painfully around. His hands weren’t on Dammek’s body anymore, but on some of the other trolls’ chests, trying to push them off some, telling them to be careful, he looked hurt. He looked hurt! The firm hold didn’t relinquish, however, because Dammek was unpredictable, and the five minutes weren’t up yet. When any troll physically threatened a human, the five minute rule applied. They were just following the code.

Around the two minute mark, Xefros’ pleas turned into screams to let Dammek go, just let him go, he was calm now, and they were _hurting_ him, they were _hurting him!_ At that, their hands reluctantly pulled back from Dammek’s body, but remained close as he put his palms on the ground and slowly got up on two feet, his clothes and face covered in dirt and grass. He stumbled, and was still clearly annoyed, but didn’t seem to want to throw another punch, or engage Dave in any way, so the others relaxed. Xefros went to him, checked on him, brushed some dirt out of his face, eyes welled up and brows in a deep, perpetual frown.

Dave looked petrified. He had probably never seen something like this happen in the whole of his life, had never taken what the education system called Deescalating Classes, where they taught young trolls to always keep their tempers in check, get themselves some moirails to work out those strong feelings with, and stop other trolls from going on violent rampages at all costs. It was encouraged to push your problematic friends into the ground in situations like that. It saved everyone a lot of trouble, possibly even that friend’s life. Xefros tugged Dammek’s sleeves up to his elbows to check on his arms, but they were fine. He hadn’t actually been hurt, just effectively stopped. Dammek slapped his moiral’s hands away then gave him a big hug.

They all walked to the food court in silence.

On second thought, a fleeting one that hit Karkat with some regret and heavy accountability, maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea.

“Sorry for pissing you off.” Dave said once they sat down to eat, each with their tray of hand-picked garbage. He seemed to have taken the spot next to Dammek on purpose.

“Literally don’t talk to me. Make my life easy and pretend you don’t know me for as long as you live.” Dammek didn’t look up from his food to reply, the words directed down at his tray before he casually slurped from a spoon, as if pretending that the human wasn’t sitting right beside him, actively speaking to him. Dave didn’t seem to have minded that as much as the cutting of those razor-edged words. A crease showed between his brows in response to it.

Karkat opened his mouth to step in and redirect Dave’s attention to something less upsetting, but Sollux beat him to it.

“What’s the life of a human like, Dave? I mean, what do you do all day?”

“Um, uh, not much, honestly. After class, I just go home and wash my future down the drain, I guess.”

“What’s your major?”

“Music.”

“So you’ll sell music and live off of that. Sweet. Doesn’t sound like much of a waste to me.”

“I don’t know, that’s not very realistic. Making money is hard.”

“You have a house, don’t you?”

“Uh, sure. I live with my brother.”

“You have the freedom to own a house, dude. Doesn’t have to be a big one, just your own place. You don’t have to get rich and famous for it, you just need to earn a living. To me, that’s a great future.” Sollux shrugged, then sipped on a cup of water, resuming his lunch afterwards.

Dave didn’t reply to that. The shades tilted down at the tray before them and he just continued to push his food around.

After lunch, they walked over to the training field, where the highbloods were doing pushups, running around, and overall being athletic. They all sat down on their little hill, in the spot under the shade, Karkat making a point to sit next to Dave this time. Behind the fence, Aquarians did cardio while Capricorns lapped the track. Eridan, once again, in shorts that hugged his thighs. He either loved to indulge the crowd, or just did this to rile Sollux up. Maybe both, if Karkat had to guess. He shook his head.

“Are you guys friends with the trolls here?” Dave asked, probably confused as to why highblood watching was on their everyday schedule. In reply to that, Karkat reached a hand, pointing at Sollux’s kismesis.

“That one, only that one.”

“Cool. Why didn’t he sit with us earlier?”

“Those guys have lunch an hour before us.”

“Oh.”

In the distance, an approaching figure. A pair of long horns glinted under the sunlight, fast legs in a blur, running over, crossing the entire field with amazing speed. That caught their attention without fail, and when Karkat could make out a face to go with such familiarly lanky frame, his blood cooled, his heart stopped. His eyes doubled their size. Gamzee was absolutely gunning toward them, approaching the fence under a full minute on long, lightning-fast legs that crossed yards in the blink of an eye. At his sight, so terrifying, so stupendously frightening, the lowbloods all jumped up to their feet, out of sheer instinct, and cleared out from the hill, ran back a few dozen feet, to safety, Dave in tow, his arm under the iron grip of Karkat’s claws. They watched Gamzee leap up and grab onto the fence like a wild animal, his eyes wide and crazed as he went. Karkat’s breathing had ceased.

“Karkat, bro! Best friend! Guess motherfucking _what!”_ Gamzee shouted around a maniacal grin that showed every single one of his teeth, his eyes insane, his hands and feet moving up the fence, savagely, despite obvious difficulty. Karkat’s heart was going off so erratically in his chest that he could feel himself about to faint, his vision starting to darken, his pressure dropping. It felt as if death were staring him in the face, disguised under a clown costume.

_“Guess motherfucking what!”_

From afar, the coach shot a dart on Gamzee’s arm. He didn’t seem to even have felt it, didn’t react to it in the slightest, only continued to climb up the fence with alarming speed, until he couldn’t anymore. Until his arms became weak and his legs sluggish, his muscles relaxed, and he dropped onto the floor, falling hard onto his back, and laying there, immobile, as if a fresh corpse. Turned medically harmless. The six of them watched a medical staff walk over and carry Gamzee out of the training field on a cot.

Karkat breathed in, hard, finally able to, as if on the precipice of passing out, but being pulled back just in time to keep on his feet. Dave put both hands on his sides to steady him upright, secure his balance. He was wordlessly grateful for that.

His friends, all wide-eyed and scared, didn’t say a thing. After Karkat came back to and could stand for himself, everybody left for the building together, mute and dumb and probably scarred for life. Dave walked with him to the door, then bid him goodbye for the day, promising to see him next morning. Though, he wouldn’t judge if Dave went home and immediately dropped out of this class.

That had deserved a picture from Dave’s film camera, for sure.

“What the fuck was that?” Sollux whispered to him halfway through the lecture, seeming to only have found his voice then. Karkat shook his head in response. “What were you supposed to guess?”

“I don’t know. I literally couldn’t have less of an idea.”

“He _talked_ to you. How long hasn’t he talked to you?”

“Well…”

“Oh, no.”

“Remember when you told me to go up to the sixth floor? You said I should see him, that he’s in rehab now and had probably changed and all of that bullshit. Long story short, I bought it, and went see him, so, technically, I talked to him first. Look where that got us.”

“You actually went up there? Was he acting like an insane maniac then, too?”

“No, he was fine. He was drugged, but he was fine. Talking fine and acting fine, I don’t know. He seemed like a new person, almost. Today, just now, was the closest I’ve seen him act like himself in a while.”

“Shit… Maybe I was wrong about rehab. Guess it doesn’t fix anyone.”

“It really doesn’t. He told me about it, said they don’t actually detox you, just drug you up with something else instead, something manageable, I think. He said he spends a lot of time sleeping there.”

“That’s fucked up. With the amount of trouble that he’s always in, I’m surprised they haven’t put him down yet.”

The thought stabbed him right through the heart, it pained him sharp. He hugged the hoodie.

“Yeah.”

The word left through trembling lips.

They had no news of Gamzee for the rest of the day. Even when he went up to the sixth floor again, that night, to check on him, there was no response to his knocking. The door was locked, and he contemplated getting either Sollux or Xefros up there to help him past it, but decided against it. If Gamzee wasn’t supposed to be found, or seen, or interacted with, then he wouldn’t do the impossible to get himself in trouble. It wasn’t worth it. He’d see Gamzee again, eventually.

He hoped for that much.

The next morning, Dave sat in front of him, as if the day before hadn’t happened, even if his smile seemed a little smaller, and his aura looked a little dimmer. To see Dave not yet having given up on him, despite everything, was uplifting. He wanted to hug him in appreciation. He wished he could.

They paired up for some research, the professor allowing them the usage of phones for help with it, so he pulled out his, and laid it unlocked on the desk next to their paper, some Google page open with useful information to back up the thesis with. Dave had been strangely quiet all morning up until that point.

“You have a phone?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised. I didn’t know the government gave you phones.” Dave spoke while swiping the phone from the desk and immediately fiddling with it, as though it were his very own. Karkat leaned back from the paper with a pointed glare at the blonde, incredibly fucking aggrieved from that.

“That’s not yours.” He accused, his tone sharp and snappy. Dave didn’t flinch.

“Don’t worry, I’m not looking through your nudes.”

“I don’t have any.”

The aviators glanced over at him in response, his own reflection greeting him with badly concealed embarrassment behind a weak attempt at a straight face. Pathetic. Out of complete vexation, he made for the phone, but Dave quickly kept it out of reach.

“Chill, I’m not doing anything weird.”

“Yes, you are!” He made for the phone again, this time more committed. “You can’t just--”

“Give me a second.”

“No--!”

“Karkat.”

Dave fended him off with an elbow and shoulder as he shoved his claws into the sleeves of Dave’s shirt, the fabric over his chest, and the hands that continued to succeed in depriving him of his own property. They looked ridiculous, flailing over each other like two idiots, until Dave finally handed him the phone back. He took it with a red face and backed off out of Dave’s personal space at once. He had been practically laying on Dave’s torso this entire time.

Looking down at the screen, a phone number. His already flushed face only worsened with the sight of it.

“Call me this weekend.” Dave said, simply, calm and collected, as if they hadn’t just been fighting over a piece of glass a second ago.

On a brief and fleeting second thought, he was glad that the professor or anyone in class barely paid them any mind at this point into the semester, already half-used to seeing them interact with each other, or this semi-playful little cat fight would’ve been enough reason to get him pushed into the ground by every single one of his friends, forces combined, as if Dammek alone wasn’t enough to successfully hold him back. He shouldn’t have his hands on Dave by any means, regardless of the situation, if it was meant to hurt or not. He was lucky to not have been caught just now.

To deviate from how starkingly red his face was at the moment, he lifted the phone and snapped a picture. Dave’s brows shot up his forehead with the odd suddenness of it.

“What--”

“To go with the number. Every contact needs a picture.”

“At least capture my good angle, then.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, for real. If you’ll have a picture of me--”

“Every angle is perfect with your stupid fucking face, you blind idiot.”

Dave shut his mouth and raised his brows again. In retrospect, Karkat should’ve stayed quiet. That always seemed to be the case, yet, he never learned. Feeling a hard crease growing in between his own brows, he turned to face their paper again, which should’ve been getting written by now. He placed his phone, locked, screen down onto the desk, and took the pencil to resume this trainwreck of a thesis. Dave, however, in his peripheral, instead of helping, only smirked like a douchebag.

“Did you just call me pretty?”

“I called you a fucking idiot.”

“And, also, pretty face.”

“Stupid face. There’s a difference.”

“Right, sorry. You said I’m perfect.”

“Hey, Dave? Maybe shut the fuck up? I’m trying to get us a passable grade here without your help, _partner.”_

“Sorry, I’m just flattered that you think I’m good-looking.”

“I know you’ve never gotten a compliment before, and this is a big first for you, but try to keep cool about it, yeah? You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Dave grinned wide, his cheeks round with it, absolutely adorable. He shook his head.

“You fucking asshole.”

Karkat turned back to his work with a badly suppressed grin on his lips.

After handing in the paper and leaving the classroom entirely, on the walk down the hallway toward the stairs, Dave destroyed his hopes of having lunch together, saying he had something with his brother today, already apologizing for it, too. Karkat reassured him that it was fine, he didn’t mind that at all, even though his heart had sunk and the words had felt like cotton on his tongue. His hands, in their hoodie pockets, felt cold.

He didn’t understand why that affected him so much.

“You know, to make up for it, if you want, we could watch a movie tonight.” Dave offered with a detached shrug that would’ve pissed Karkat off had he not seen the color of Dave’s cheeks change, get darker, his shoulders tensing the slightest bit. Karkat was starting to be able to read him now, and it felt empowering. He smirked.

“Which one?”

“Clueless. I’ve never seen it, and since the theater down the street from here is playing it tonight, I thought it’d be a good idea to go.”

Oh, he fucking loved Clueless. It was so good. A classic example of two humans falling in love and being huge dorks for about an hour and a half on the big screen. Yes, absolutely yes.

“What time?”

Yes.

“Eight-thirty.”

No. No, eight-thirty? Eight fucking thirty? Curfew was at nine on weekdays, and he had never been caught on the streets breaking the rules before, loitering after nine at night. Shit. Eight-thirty it would have to be, though; he couldn’t pass up on this, it was _Clueless,_ a classic! Iconic! A mental sigh. Eight-thirty it was. He saw, very crystal clear, rehab in his immediate future, could almost feel the syringe poking through his skin, injecting whatever poison it was that calmed trolls down and made examples of them to the others. He’d get caught loitering on the streets past curfew tonight. He was ready for it.

“See you then.”

It would be worth it.


	5. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

Dave was under the ceiling of the theater, waiting for him off to the side, his back resting on the wall and the shades tilted down at his phone screen to pass the time. Karkat approached with quiet steps. He could see the reflection of the screen on the shades, images and text flipped backwards, but that design was very obviously a Facebook timeline that Dave scrolled down with disinterest. The quickly disappearing images became easier to tell apart the closer he got to them, until the shades tilted up to his direction, and his face was mirrored on it. Wide eyes, looking to have been caught red-handed. He hated just how small and defenseless he always seemed to be to the outside world. 

A minute smile tugged on the corner of Dave’s lips for a greeting, the phone put away. Karkat managed an awkward one back. 

“Nice jacket.” 

At the compliment, he instinctively glanced himself down, though he knew exactly what Dave was referring to. He hadn’t thrown Gamzee’s oversized hoodie on tonight, not for this. Back at the building, while getting ready, he had grabbed it. He had held it in both hands and consciously decided to put it back down, take a regular, plain black one instead, because it didn’t feel right. It just didn’t feel right to wear that tonight. This small, black hoodie felt strange on his torso, almost made him self-conscious of his own size. The cuffs hugged his wrists and the hem ended just past his hip bone. His actual size, when accustomed to sleeves that exceeded his hands by six inches and a hem that reached halfway down his thighs, felt different. Classier. Like he wasn’t wearing pajamas out tonight, and he actually cared to look somewhat decent, which was true. 

He shrugged in response, walking with Dave to the ticket booth. 

“Thanks, the purple one is in the washer.” 

It wasn’t. 

Dave asked for two tickets and fished out his wallet, but didn’t pay right away. He turned to Karkat first. 

“Do you mind if I pay for you?” 

“No, go ahead.” 

As the words left him, he immediately felt weird. Relieved, to an extent, and for an entirely unrelated reason, but also weird, because this, well, this was what troll owners usually did. He shuddered. No, Dave was just a guy. He might have had ulterior motives for wanting to be close to Karkat this whole time, sure, and it probably went  _ way _ past his weak ass explanation for simply wanting to meet a troll, yeah, but he wasn’t that bad. He wasn’t the revolution’s target to be brought down, he probably just wanted to fuck. This whole thing, Karkat knew since day one that it was just one big orchestration to bed him. He knew that, and he was fine with it. He wouldn’t have been fine with it on day one, true, but he was fine with it now. Had been fine with it for a while, almost couldn’t wait to have Dave’s mouth on his own. He cleared his throat, watched money be exchanged for a couple of tickets. This was a show for dominance and he honestly didn’t care if Dave had it. Dave could have more than just that, too. 

He swiped the tickets from the counter and had Dave follow him inside. 

The only reason why he so easily agreed to let Dave provide the tickets for him in the first place, when he usually wouldn’t, was because he wasn’t sure that he could actually afford them, not this far into the month, and even if he could, depending on the price, that might’ve meant two to three days without lunch and dinner. The government didn’t fill his bank account with money to be spent in the movies, after all, so having Dave pay for him had been relieving, but of the uneasy kind, because now he owed him. Possibly not money, but something else. At least, the prospect of something.

A hundred minutes of one of his favorite cinematic pieces flashed past his face without as much as making an impression on him this time. None of Cher’s iconic lines registered in his mind, the heartbreaking moment between her and Tai didn’t bring a pang to his chest, and not even the kiss at the end had him touched. Nothing, nothing could get his attention away from his own thoughts and the anxiety that they carried in tow. His shoulders were tense, he could feel himself tense against the backrest of his seat, his fingertips pushing into the armrests, his legs just short of bouncing. He couldn’t sit still for the entirety of the movie and fervently hoped that Dave didn’t notice that, because he didn’t want to have to explain himself, didn’t want to bring forth the fact that he  _ knew _ where tonight would lead, and he was worried about it. 

That whole thing about wanting Dave’s mouth on his own? Truth. He very sincerely wanted that still, and everything else, too, that was to follow, but the thought of it all still made him anxious. What if he fucked it up? He hadn’t done this in a while. Fuck, his cheeks flared up just at the thought of it. Kissing Dave. Kissing Dave would be nice, but bedding him? That was scary, it was terrifying. Adding to his lack of practice, he also didn’t know how humans actually worked, had never been with a human before, evidently. Dave had probably never been with a troll, either, but that wasn’t the point. That wasn’t for him to worry about. He very strongly didn’t want to be a disappointment, even if he knew that Dave would actually, officially be through with him after tonight. Beyond that, he didn’t want more unpleasant memories involving this kind of thing. Not this particular kind of thing, because he worried that if he didn’t eventually have a single good experience with it, then he’d never learn to like it, and would never do it again. Now that would complicate his entire life. 

But that hadn’t happened yet, and Dave wasn’t Gamzee. In fact, Dave was almost entirely the opposite of Gamzee, which was good. It shone some hope into his nerves that maybe it’d be fine. Maybe he’d like it. Maybe it wouldn’t haunt him for months on end.

With Dave’s indisputable leave, tonight would be the end of a confusing chapter in his life that he couldn’t wait to forget about. No more putting himself in trouble for socializing with a human, no more jeopardizing his friendships because of a guy, no more treacherous behaviour to the revolution that he only partially cared about. He wasn’t fully invested in that last one, but participating in the meetings every once in a while felt like a nod at his culture, and he’d take that over human imperialism anyday of the week. Dave walking out of his life tonight would be cleansing. 

They left the theater side-by-side, Karkat hugging himself to keep from shivering, stop his hands from trembling. His heart was beating a thousand miles an hour. 

“I liked the movie. I mean, it’s not really my genre, but I liked it. Cher was a good character, like, she’s preppy and conceited but she’s a good person, too. She’s not an asshole cheerleader, she’s nice. She’s sweet. They took a stereotype and flipped it on its head and that was cool. Are you cold?” 

“Uh.” He could feel just how wide his eyes were. “A little.” 

“I guess we can’t hang inside, but we could go somewhere else.” Dave shrugged, always nonchalant, always laid-back. He’d be the one on top, anyway. Didn’t really have to worry about a thing. “Anywhere you want, really, or do you just want to go home? ‘Cause I’ll walk with you, no problem.” 

And take this to the building? No, never. There was no chance in Hell that he would ever bring Dave to the building. He’d rather keep from getting thrown into rehab for as long as possible, thanks, and openly showing face to the security guards past curfew with a human in tow was the exact way to get there. He shook his head. 

“Can we go to your place instead?” 

He hated that question so much but it was unavoidable. He sounded cheap, like a street pick-up in the dead of night, hiking up their skirt to the first wad of cash flashed under the neon glow of the businesses around. He felt worthless watching the minute lifting of Dave’s brows behind the rim of his shades as he palmed himself for his phone. 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

They walked over to the nearest bus stop while Dave texted his brother. Karkat could see the backwards screen reflected on the sunglasses. 

_ hey bro can i bring someone home in a few? _

His stomach churned and his cheeks flared up. He shouldn’t be reading that, and definitely not with this much ease decoding the backwards text as he was (a newfound talent?) but there was something more intriguing than spying on people’s mail in this case, because he wasn’t here to pry on Dave’s private life. He’d never do that in regular circumstances, and that was the reason why he didn’t read the previously exchanged texts between the brothers, openly displayed up Dave’s face, but this was a window to see how Dave talked about him to others, and that was what had him reading. 

_ Sure. Give me ten minutes to leave. _

He frowned. He had no idea how Dave’s brother was like, but judging by the fact that the guy’s first instinct to Dave bringing home a guest was to leave the place entirely to the two of them, he wasn’t sure that he liked this dude very much. Did Dave bring a lot of random strangers home? Maybe this was a more common occurrence than he thought. 

_ no its cool you dont gotta leave were just gonna chill _

Huh. Really? Karkat turned to look out onto the mostly empty street, the few and far in-between pedestrians dispersing from the theater doors not too far to their right, walking home in little groups of two or three, murmuring to each other as not to disturb the night, with the occasional burst of laughter here and there. He watched these people walk along the pavement, disappear behind store corners, step over trimmed bushes onto the parking lot behind them, meander past a police car. Oh. It rolled up the street very slowly, on sure patrol, windows down and fat forearms resting on the door. Karkat’s heart froze in time and space, he saw his entire life flash before his eyes. This was the end of his career, the one that he had spent eighteen years building, and that hadn’t even started yet. Out of sheer instinct, and perhaps as a farewell sign, he reached for Dave’s arm and took it, nails digging into the sleeve of his shirt, eyes glued to the police officers that rolled past him, slowly, as if in a movie. 

They exchanged eye contact, him and the two officers. The men glared him down something vicious, and he could very clearly see the hatred in their very core, the want to jump out of that car and take him, hurt him. His blood ran cold and his hands trembled. The car, however, didn’t stop to take him away. The two men threw one glance at Dave, Karkat’s hand on his arm, and drove straight past them, but not before giving Karkat the stink eye. He nearly fainted. He had seen the tunnel, the light at the very end of it. 

“We can chill at my place.” Dave said to him, breaking the heavy intensity of the moment, and making him breathe again. He hadn’t noticed to have stopped in the first place. Watching the tail lights grow smaller in the distance was relieving, it had his shoulders relaxing at once. 

“Cool.” He replied, not at all present, his voice a disembodied entity of its own. 

He held onto Dave’s arm as they took the bus, and during the entire drive across the neighborhood. Dave didn’t seem to mind that at all. 

He lived at an apartment building infinitesimally smaller than 27-A that looked almost abandoned, as if the owner didn’t much care to look after it a lot, or make it a safe living for the residents. The front door didn’t even have a lock, so anyone could walk right in, and the elevators looked ready to snap off their hinges and fall down into the basement at any moment. Dirty carpets, water-stained wallpapers, dim lighting. Dave really wasn’t kidding when he said to not be part of the Establishment. That notion was nothing if not clear now. 

Up at the penthouse, two doors faced each other, one on each end of the small hallway. A regular, wooden one to the left, and the weirdest thing Karkat had ever seen outside of a bank in those heist movies to the right. It literally looked like a safe door, all smooth steel and no handles, which, of course, belonged to Dave. The sight of it didn’t shine a light on his brother’s personality as much as it obfuscated whatever idea that Karkat had built of the guy so far. Dave approached it casually, as per, laid three of his left fingers on a scanner that Karkat hadn’t noticed before, and pushed the enormous door open. Karkat followed him meeker than ever. 

He wasn’t sure of what he expected the inside of the apartment to look like, but whatever it was, the actual innards were disappointing. Nothing looked regular by any means, but it didn’t look like extensions of that weird door, either, which, on second thought, made sense, otherwise the walls should be stacked full of gold and the center of the room should have crates of paper money. But it didn’t. It was just a living room, with a huge television on the wall, a Frankenstein-looking surround system all very obviously put together with different, off-brand parts by someone who knew what they were doing, a couch from IKEA, a couple of Frankenstein turntables off to the side, and some mechanical junk piled up in the corners. So Dave’s brother was a tinkerer, cool. He probably worked at a shitty auto-repair. 

“Welcome to Bro’s apartment. Here’s the living room, there’s the kitchen.” Dave spoke while pointing at the entirety of the kitchenette, which didn’t have its own walls, but instead a counter to separate it from the living room, and could be seen from here, then moved over to a tiny hallway to the left, Karkat closely behind. Regardless of how small and cluttered this place was, it didn’t feel cramped, somehow. Karkat could see how cozy it could be to live in here. 

He never really stopped to think of the impossible, but if he could have his own apartment, he was sure that it’d be close to something like this. Small but comfortable, the polar opposite of 27-A. 

In the hallway, Dave motioned to the door on his left. “The bathroom.” Motioned to the door at the very end of it. “Bro’s room.” The door to his right. “My room.” 

The words made Karkat’s heart skip a beat. This was the place, then. This was it. He walked in without invitation, flicked the light switch on, and took a moment to grasp the absolute mess that graced his eyes with that. Wires literally everywhere, pretty much covering the carpet all across the flooring, a desk with two computer screens, a keyboard, and a bunch of random clutter on it, another desk at the far end of the room with less things on it, but still filled up pretty good, shelves with jars on them containing unidentified monstrosities that Karkat decided not to stare at for too long, a television on the wall with gaming consoles underneath it, an old dresser whose massive drawers rested crooked and askew, piles of clothes and Blu-Ray cases all mashed together, clothes, in fact, almost everywhere, spilling out of the closet door and hanging on the back of a chair, and a double bed that literally looked like Dave had just jumped out of it in the morning and not touched it again. Karkat’s brows raised. 

He didn’t know how people could have this much stuff. 

“Sorry for the mess, I wasn’t expecting anyone.” Dave spoke hurriedly, slipping past him into the room and picking up his clothes from the floor, from the chair, throwing it all into the overflowing closet, evidently struggling to close it afterwards. Karkat, on the meanwhile, stepped further in, took his jacket off, and noticed the little details that he hadn’t seen from the doorway, like the photographs that hung from a line overhead and the keyboard case that leaned on the side of Dave’s rig, probably with the keyboard inside. He hung his jacket on the chair and took a seat on the edge of the mattress. 

“You have a lot of shit, Dave.” 

He almost sounded incredulous.

“Yeah, I know.” Dave ran a hand through his hair, trying to play off his embarrassment by leaning on the half-closed closet door. “I’m not very good at throwing things away.” 

“Or buying a power strip.” He passed a brief glance at the wires on the floor. “Isn’t your brother, like, an electrical engineer? He could probably fix this particular mess for you.” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, yeah, he’s an electrical engineer. How did you know?” 

“I saw your living room, is how I know.” 

Dave blinked. Or, behind the shades, he probably did. 

“Right. So, what do you want to do? I have an Xbox, or we could just watch a movie. Netflix doesn’t really have shit, but that doesn’t matter.” 

No, it really didn’t matter, not when they would be all up on each other pretty soon. His heart skipped at that. Strangely enough, he was less anxious here, and now, sitting on Dave’s fucking bed, as he was in the theater twenty minutes ago. There officially was no turning back now, and the inside of a dragon’s mouth felt more soothing that standing just outside of it, staring at its sharp teeth. Karkat shrugged. 

“Whatever you want.” 

Dave took out his phone and sat next to him on the bed, so close that he could smell Dave’s cologne from here. It was nice, had a touch of cinnamon in it. He wouldn’t mind grabbing at sweat-slicked skin that smelled of cinnamon tonight. 

“There’s Hot Fuzz, Twenty-two Jump Street, The Nice Guys…” 

“I literally couldn’t care less, Dave.” 

Dave turned to give him a look in response to that that, even with a pair of huge aviators covering up the better half of his face, still got his point across near-perfectly. Karkat would be impressed if he wasn’t so focused on their closeness instead, how their shoulders were a hair away from touching, how they were on  _ Dave’s bed,  _ Dave was right there, his lips so close, yet they weren’t kissing. They weren’t all over each other, Karkat wasn’t pinned to this mattress. It didn’t make sense. Maybe Dave had his own way of doing this. 

Dave offered him his phone. 

“Karkat, if you don’t pick a movie, I’ll think you’re here to make out with me.” 

He pushed the offering away with a palm. 

“We both know I’m literally here for that.” 

Dave stared. The shades didn’t hide that. He locked his phone and put it away on a nearby desk, the less cluttered one, before turning to fully face Karkat. The reflection on aviators showed a much more composed troll than the one sitting next to Dave, and he hated that he had to keep looking at himself when talking to this guy. If he were just a tad bit more audacious than this, he’d reach over and push the shades up Dave’s forehead to look him straight in the eye for once, but he wasn’t. He wanted to, though, God, how he wanted to. 

“Really? I thought… I don’t know. You freaked out before, and, I guess, I thought--”

“Dave.” 

Dave shut up. 

“Just kiss me, man.” 

White cheeks turned beet red at that, but his point got through, and had Dave quiet while leaning forward, closing the gap between them with a kiss, soft lips against Karkat’s teeth. His eyes slipped closed, his own lips parted, pressing back, a second later than intended, but, at least, he didn’t freeze completely, like he used to do. It could’ve been worse. The kiss was soft, and nice, and made his heart flutter, his pulse quicken, and he didn’t hate it. He didn’t absolutely hate this. He leaned into it, in fact, his face impossibly closer to Dave’s, their mouths pressed hard together, but his breathing too composed to make this real. It needed to be ragged, shallow, completely destroyed, so he licked at Dave’s lips, kissing him harder, pushing him to lean back a bit. The response he got was ideal. Dave slipped a hand around the back of his neck and held him close, firmly close, keeping him in place as their tongues met, their noses brushed, and his heart stopped.  _ Yes. _ This was real. Dave kissed him,  _ really _ kissed him now, deep and wet and wanting, almost hungry, almost possessive. He liked that. The corners of his mouth tugged upward in a feeble smirk while Dave’s tongue met his palate, and round, human teeth pulled on his lips. His heart made for his throat, closed around the beginnings of a sound that never made it out, and had his blood running hot in his veins, his breathing shallow and quick, reduced to gasps swallowed down with the kiss. 

He closed his legs. 

Dave’s fingertips burned on the back of his neck, on the bottom of his scalp, almost as much as Karkat’s cheeks did on his own face, making him sweat, his body overheat. His tongue met Dave’s something delicious, continuously, their teeth tugging on each other’s skin, himself very careful, and Dave very reckless. Human teeth had a hard time hurting him, so Dave could bite and pull all he wanted, while Karkat kept himself very actively in check about that, or he’d rip a gash on Dave’s face any moment now. He didn’t want that, unless Dave was into it, but he’d rather die before asking. He just stayed vigilant, as much as he could with a rapidly beating heart and burning skin. Dave swiped a thumb over the bottom of his jaw and he could’ve fucking melted. It was almost worrying how much he was enjoying this until Dave pulled away, but even breaking the kiss, Dave did it right. Their lips met one last time, no tongue, before Dave leaned back without making a mess, very delicately holding him by the neck. Which he really liked, for whatever reason. 

“Are we--”

He shushed Dave immediately, shaking his head, leaning closer with a hand on the mattress and a knee over Dave’s thigh, but not pressing down on it, simply resting there. He had missed closeness so much that, at this point, he wouldn’t relinquish whatever he could get his hands on, specially not when he was enjoying it as much as he was now. The starving wouldn’t turn away food even if it dripped with poison. 

“You talk too much.” 

“I know.” 

“So, don’t. Just shut up for once.” 

“Okay.” 

He grabbed a fistful of Dave’s shirtfront and tugged on it, nicely, as a motion for Dave to resume, which was obliged with no resistance. Dave leaned forward and closed their mouths together, this time knowing what to expect, and pushing Karkat back some, but not nearly enough to lay him down, which he didn’t mind. There was time for that. He had soft lips on his own, a tongue lapping at his skin, fingers burning through the back of his neck, and cinnamon in his lungs. He felt warm all around and, for the first time in about a year, not entirely alone. This was already worth it. 

As they kissed, he realized that Dave literally wasn’t going to lay him down, at all, so he took the initiative and did it for the both of them. He hooked an arm around Dave’s neck, kissed him messier, and pulled him down onto the bed. Dave fit above him perfectly, forearms on each side of his torso and legs intertwined with his own. The kiss broke again. 

“Are we doing this?” Dave asked, breathless, cheeks pumping red. Karkat wanted to kiss him some more. 

“Yeah, dumbass. Get to it.” 

For someone who was just about having an anxiety attack over this exact scenario not half an hour ago, he sure sounded overconfident now. It might’ve been how completely harmless Dave was, the opposite of a threat and the opposite of an aggressor, that made him feel so safe, so sure of himself. It made this be far different than how it used to happen with Gamzee. 

Dave hoisted himself up with a hand and reached across the bed for the light switch on the wall. He flicked it, the lights went off, and Karkat’s eyes instantly adjusted to the dark. He didn’t have a great night vision, decidedly not as good as a highblood’s, and could only make out generic shapes in total darkness, but, when coupled with some faint lighting from the street and the moon, could see Dave almost perfectly, could watch him remove the aviators along with his shirt before leaning back down, resuming the kiss. His hand lifted up to meet with Dave’s stomach first thing, fingers touching the smooth skin tentatively, and palm running along the soft, flat surface. He swallowed around Dave’s tongue when his fingers reached waistband. He didn’t touch it. His palm pressed onto Dave’s lower stomach, feeling the muscles there tense up, before dragging back up to feel more of his skin, the warmth of it only a couple of degrees cooler than Karkat’s own body temperature. Being so close to someone warm… It’d be a new experience. He had only known cold fingers before this.

Dave kissed along his jawline and down his neck, tugging on the skin a bit once reaching the collarbone, round teeth pulling and biting and entirely harmless. It didn’t hurt, didn’t draw blood, and, instead of making everything uncomfortable, it made it all the better. It had Karkat’s eyes slipping closed, his heart beating faster, and when Dave’s tongue met his neck, he bit his lip, his legs tried to close, and would have, if Dave’s thigh wasn’t on the way. His cheeks burned, his hands grabbed onto Dave’s sides, and all he could think of while Dave sucked on his neck was that mouth, that tongue, somewhere else. That had his brows drawing together, upwards, and his nails, blunt, he made sure of that, pushing onto Dave’s skin without breaking it. He sighed, and Dave slipped a hand under his shirt, warm palm running up his stomach, making him shiver, making him want it down lower. A knee raised up, the one that wasn’t literally in between Dave’s legs, and rested on the side of Dave’s hip. 

He was burning. 

Dave’s hand, so soft and delicate, touched and scorched his belly as it roamed about his skin, up the center of his chest and back down, round to his sides, squeezing the softness there, then dragging the palm further up. He almost arched from it, already impatient to feel more, to feel intensely, to have his insides burning with passion, until his train of thought collapsed entirely and his mind went blank with shock. Dave’s fingers had accidentally touched his grub scars, and had his heart beating colder. One ice cold stab to the chest, and he immediately took Dave’s wrist, ripped it away from there, his breath coming out in shallow exhales. He could easily feel just how tense his entire back had grown from this one slip. 

“Not there.” He whispered, not scared but skirting that feeling, pushing Dave’s hand down instead, down toward his own waistband. Dave leaned on the side of his hip, and moved to have both knees in between his legs, Dave’s mouth kissing the spot right before his ear. 

“Sorry.” Dave murmured against his skin before kissing it again, his distrustful hand moving down to slip fingers under the waistband of Karkat’s pants, under the elastic band of his underwear. He shivered, his nails grabbed tighter onto Dave’s sides and forearm. More knuckles pushed past the waistband, the back of the hand touching his naked skin, causing his legs to spread naturally, by themselves, as his eyes slipped closed and something built on the back of his throat. The tip of Dave’s fingers were damn near brushing the top of his half-tucked bulge. His underwear must’ve been disgustingly damp from this. 

“Is this okay?” Dave asked, voice small and nice but with a tinge of something in it, some interest, some expectancy for the answer to be positive. He wanted to touch Karkat as much as Karkat wanted him to do it. The realization made his cheeks color. 

“Yes.” He breathed out, watching just how wide and round Dave’s eyes were under the soft glow of the moon, mostly covered in shadows, but with black-and-white irises glinting full of hope down at him. Dave exhaled, slowly, and Karkat could tell just how red his cheeks were, too, practically consuming the entirety of that white face. Dave looked down. His hand flipped over, so the pads of his fingers touched warm, gray skin before pushing further down, dragging along the outer portion of the bulge and making Karkat’s body grow impossibly hotter, his blood just on the verge of boiling, his nook dripping between his legs, he could feel the excess genetic material running down his skin. He sighed the heaviest he had ever done and brought that hand, from Dave’s forearm, to lay across his own eyes. 

The fingers rubbed on the bulge, slicking it with its own genetic material something so good, so warm, that it had Karkat’s breath hitching, and the bulge untucking itself entirely from a pit of wet, dripping shame that soaked through his underwear and made his cheeks burn. Dave’s hand wrapped around the bulge with the ease of instinctive practice before squeezing a bit, and stroking the tip halfway down the shaft. His thighs dropped apart as far as they could go in response to that, and his hips thrust up, once, without him realizing it. Dave squeezed as he stroked and Karkat’s breathing ceased, his free hand closed in a fist, and all he could do was groan brokenly, feeling his body overheat, his thighs tremble, and genetic material run down his nook. He bit his lip, his brows furrowed hard on his forehead, and when Dave pulled the bulge out into the crisp night air, still stroking, still squeezing, now the entirety of the shaft, he arched up, off the bed, muffling through an embarrassing whine. His blunt nails threatened to break the skin of Dave’s pale sides. 

It didn’t take a minute until Dave had picked up a nice, steady rhythm to jerk him off with, squeezing the base, squeezing the shaft, and making red ooze from the slick skin, coating his delicate hand with it. Karkat couldn’t breathe, only pant, shallow and quick through his sharp, buck teeth, his chest rising and falling faster than it had ever done. His legs wanted to close, instead dug knees into the sides of Dave’s hips, and his bulge swelled, overflowed, had him bucking upwards. If Dave didn’t stop, he’d cum like this, and not too long from now, either. He had been so fucking deprived from touch for so long that the simplest one burned, and something so good, so experienced like this was scalding. It put him on edge real fast. His bulge was so sensitive that it swelled under the warmth of Dave’s palm, red spilling and dripping from Dave’s hand, his wrist, pooling at the pit of Karkat’s stomach, running down between his legs, a warm stream touching his nook, making him shiver. He wondered how it’d feel to get fucked while Dave jerked him off, and his nook pulsed with it, his stomach tensed from the thought. 

He was really fucking close. 

Dave must’ve been able to tell, because he removed his hand from the bulge entirely, and, if Karkat had any self-awareness at all, he’d know that it was because he was very easy to read. He groaned, loud, and his body immediately relaxed, he could breathe, somehow, and he could calm down. The arm thrown across his eyes dropped to above his head, and he saw Dave push his quivering thighs up with two hands, one of them leaving a warm, wet mark on the underside, all the way from the back of his knee down to the curve of his ass. His heart skipped a beat, and he covered his eyes again, that fist closing from preemption. Dave touched the back of his fingers on the very bottom of the bulge, where it met the top of the nook, and ran his knuckles down, along its length, delicately pushing them into the folds, making Karkat shiver, and his nook close. He was arching off the bed again. 

When a knuckle reached the entrance, Dave stopped, switched the back of his hand for his palm, pushed the pads of his fingers into the folds, and spread them apart, rubbing on them, fingertips pushing onto the entrance, touching it, but not slipping in. It drove Karkat insane, he could feel genetic material ooze out from that, from the very entrance, coating Dave’s fingers even further as he pushed, and teased, and rubbed. His face burned, sweat prickled at his skin, and he whined, muffled by his own teeth, gnawing at his own bottom lip. 

“Is it here?” Dave asked, two fingertips just threatening to push in, making Karkat’s hips thrust up, his legs spread even further apart. He covered his face with both palms, because, even if Dave couldn’t see the color of it in the dark, he was too embarrassed to let it show, openly, into the room. 

“Yes.” 

The answer had his cheeks burning through the skin of his hands, as well as Dave finally pushing his fingers in, two of them stretching the walls, and scissoring, three knuckles deep. Karkat threw his head back, his legs trembled from it, his nook pulsed once around Dave’s fingers, coating them further, somehow making him try to push in deeper. The fingers thrust and spread as if by second nature, Dave’s palm firmly clasped to the rest of the nook, holding onto it, pressing down onto the folds, as his fingers repeatedly buried into Karkat as deep as they could go. He whined, whimpered, swallowed down a moan. Genetic material ran down his legs and his bulge twisted on itself, the folds of his nook swelled, he wanted more than just two fingers. They weren’t enough, and for as much as they stretched him out, and pushed, and thrust, at this point, he just wanted Dave’s fucking cock. 

“Fuck.” Dave breathed, small, into the space between them, and it was so needy, so hot, that Karkat peeked through his fingers to look up into his face. Brows knit together, eyes cast down at their bodies, lips pressed into a line. Dave looked incredibly attractive and Karkat didn’t even know why, but the shock waves up his spine and the fingers buried deep inside him probably had something to do with that. 

“What?” He asked, trying his best to sound normal, but not fully committed, his mind lost between reading Dave and feeling his own body sweat, squirm, his legs trembling weak. 

“God, you’re so hot, Karkat, I just…” 

“Just fuck me.” 

In that moment, it didn’t strike him that he had literally never said that, to anyone, in his entire life. 

Dave obeyed. Always good, always compliant, Dave obeyed, and, with a shudder, removed the fingers from him, hoisted himself up to stand on both knees. He pulled his pants down, kicked them off completely, and Karkat’s eyes immediately fell on his cock, and stayed trained on it, as if spellbound, bringing something forth from deep inside him in response, a need to touch, a need to grab, a need to stroke Dave raw and watch him crumble into pieces, his cool and aloof façade finally broken. An arm reached, and a hand made for it, but Dave leaned back down faster than he could react, obviously very eager to get this moving along, meeting Karkat’s mouth with his own in a hard kiss that nearly clinked their teeth together. Karkat grabbed his hair instead, kissing him harder still, and felt the tip of Dave’s cock brush on his stomach, smearing it with something slick and warm, unnamed, that made his fist tug on very smooth hair and his bulge instantly wrap around human shaft. It squeezed, and rubbed, and felt up the length, all the way to the head, making Dave moan into the kiss, very openly, and Karkat’s body shiver. He had never heard anything so hot, Dave’s rumbling voice a scratchy moan from the back of his throat. The kiss got messier. 

Dave thrust into the bulge, seemingly instinctively, the head pushing onto the low of Karkat’s stomach, slick with genetic material, trying to fuck the first thing it could touch. Karkat groaned from it, Dave’s eagerness to sleep with him tragically flattering, the size of the head making him want it deep inside, where no tip of any bulge had ever been so thick. Dave lowered himself down until their hips met, bulge and cock sandwiched in between bodies, in a lock so compressed that it had Dave thrusting more, anything to get some friction, anything to inch that much closer to getting off. The bulge squeezed around the head, and the more it pushed onto Karkat’s belly, the more he felt the entirety of Dave’s shaft pressed against him, the more he just wanted it inside, the more he just wanted Dave to fuck him. His arms braced across Dave’s shoulder blades, hands grabbing onto the shoulders, and face very firmly squashed against Dave’s own, their mouths fusing into one, their tongues a tangled mess. A hand found the underside of his thigh and angled it further up, soft fingers pressed into the meat of it as Dave inched himself lower down with incredibly difficulty. The bulge let go. 

Dave positioned himself, kissing chaster now, Karkat’s arms unhooking from his back, hands touching Dave’s face, softly, holding the kiss together. The tip of Dave’s cock pressed onto the entrance just the enough to tease, make it pulse, without going in at all, in the first place. It drove Karkat crazy, made genetic material pool out of him something embarrassing. He frowned, his legs quivered, and at his tighter grip on Dave’s face, Dave actually pushed in, head first, stretching him all around. It was delicious; his own fingers had never been able to fill so much, to be so evenly, pushing a perfect cylinder in. He hummed, maybe moaned, he wasn’t sure and paid no attention to it as Dave thrust in some more, about halfway, making his cheeks pump red and the kiss turn messy again, on his initiative. One of his hands found Dave’s back again when their tongues met, but Dave wasn’t pushing anymore, and that was a concern. That wasn’t enough. There  _ was _ more, he knew that. He had felt it against his stomach not a minute ago. He broke the kiss. 

“More.” He whispered, sounding like a desperate celibate, so close to Dave’s face that their lips brushed, they were practically kissing still. “Give me everything.” 

With a firm kiss, Dave complied, thrusting carefully once, to completion, until their thighs locked and the tip of his cock pushed onto the seed flap, sending a shudder up Karkat’s entire body, making him want to arch off the mattress, if only Dave’s weight wasn’t compressing him onto it. His feet, forcing onto the bed, tried to hoist himself up out of instinct. He needed Dave moving, pushing ruthlessly against that spot, right there, right now. He whined. 

“Fuck.” He breathed into Dave’s mouth. “Get moving, Dave, just fucking--” He cut himself off at Dave’s immediate response, always complying with no objections, hips thrusting into his own, heavy and clumsy and hitting the seed flap something  _ so nice _ that his thighs quivered and he straight up moaned, no doubt this time. He didn’t care. His brows knit together and his head threw itself back, eyes shut, hands grabbing onto Dave’s skin. His blood boiled in its veins, he groaned low from the back of his throat, he was  _ burning _ and absolutely loved it. He loved this. Dave thrust in deep, the length of his cock rubbed on Karkat’s walls, stretching him wide, making him bite his lip, muffle a whine and a moan, legs tightly locked around Dave’s waist to keep him close. Dave might’ve started off clumsy, but it didn’t take him a minute to pick up a smooth, even pace with his hips, easily thrusting into Karkat and stretching him deep where bulges were too conical to reach. He moaned embarrassingly loud from that, but, luckily for him, his mind was too fogged up in bliss to notice it. Dave, however, shuddered and thrust in harder as a response. 

This whole thing, the entirety of it, but mostly his own endorsement to it, felt so strangely good, so nice, that it seemed to have been an entirely different experience than that with Gamzee. Those used to have him feeling awkward and uncomfortable, and the biting and the blood hadn’t helped, either, while this, well, this was delicious. Dave filled him up and handled him with care and, mostly, he just wanted it to happen, which was the biggest difference. He had mentally prepared himself for this moment for about two hours and a couple of weeks and he just felt ready for it now. Dave hadn’t pressured him into it; he had taken the matter into his own hands and gotten ready by himself before it could sneak up on him unannounced, like Gamzee used to do. It was bound to happen, anyway, and he knew that, so why waste time in denial when he could’ve been working to accept it? The unprepared one here was Dave, but, judging by his performance, and how good the head of his cock felt buried deep in Karkat’s nook, pushing hard onto the seed flap with every other thrust, Karkat, lost in the fire of his own self, couldn’t say that he particularly hated it. In fact, he never thought that he’d like it so much. He had seen cocks before, of course, always behind a screen, and always, always wondered just how good they’d feel. His question had been answered tonight, and how unfortunate it was that others wouldn’t get to experience this, too. 

Dave laid a forearm on the mattress and supported his weight on it, hoisted himself up some, for a better angle, so their hips met easier and their faces stared at one another. Dave panted, mostly quiet, small groans here and there and violent shuddering right under Karkat’s palms that made him grab Dave by the neck and yank him back down for a kiss, a messy and badly coordinated one, where they swallowed each other’s sounds and ate at each other’s lips. Delicious, and Heavenly, Karkat arched off the bed, meeting his stomach with Dave’s, tainting white skin with the red that oozed from his bulge, electrifying, blood-boiling. He felt so warm, his skin might’ve been melting off, and his insides burned through, his nook was scorching, and every thrust had him whining, and every draw had him sighing. Dave kissed him with a hand on his face, and so much pure, unadulterated, brazen passion, that he felt himself falling in love. 

It was a stab through the heart, it hurt, it cooled the blood running in his veins, pushed his brows into a scowl, and made him hold tighter onto Dave’s neck, Dave’s back, keeping the two of them locked in a burning dance that singed his fingertips raw. He bit Dave’s lip, felt himself shiver. They’d be out of each other’s lives the moment this was over and he’d never feel Dave’s body again, hear Dave’s voice again, have his name on Dave’s tongue or his face in Dave’s mind. It hurt, the wound bled, but he couldn’t patch it up. He knew this would happen, he had accounted for it, he had looked forward to it, and, yet, now, it felt like a mistake. Letting Dave go would be a mistake, but one that he couldn’t stop from happening. It wasn’t up to him, it had never been. He knew from the start that this was just a meet and fuck that had taken too long to happen and this was the end of it. He took solace in the a few more minutes that he still had with Dave before the inevitable. 

He had never intended to feel anything other than contempt for this guy, but here he was, getting kissed so passionately that his heart swelled, and filled up and touched so divinely that he had positively never felt love before this, he was sure of it now. The way Dave thrust into him made him perfectly certain of that, and he kissed with all of his heart in his throat in response to it, trying to show his appreciation as best as he could, in the only way that he could. He hoped that this sudden, overwhelming affection for Dave would die the moment he came, but he doubted that. Never having felt this cared for before would leave a deep mark, the kind of stain harder to wash off than blood from cotton. He shivered; there was a sob in his throat that he refused to let out. He swallowed it down with Dave’s tongue. 

Dave broke the kiss. 

“Are you close at all?” He asked, breathless, against Karkat’s lips, the words practically spoken into his mouth. He looked so beautiful in the partial moonlight, half-lidded eyes glinting, slight frown creasing between his brows, lips swollen from their kissing; it’d be the hardest thing to see him walk away. It’d cut so deep that Karkat would forget how to breathe. He knew it already, it hurt already. He pulled Dave down into a chaste kiss, full with feeling. 

“Cum and I will be.” 

Dave shivered. He felt it under his palms. 

“What?” Weak, spewed out from between trembling lips. He really was something else and Karkat wished he could have him. 

“Just trust me.” 

Dave stared at him for a second but nodded either way, eyes dropping down as he refocused, now on getting himself off, on thrusting hard and pushing in deep, less recoil, more quicker thrusts. Karkat groaned with it, Dave bit his own lip, and their bodies met through electric waves that seared Karkat’s stomach from the inside. His eyes rolled back, and he let them, closed for once, so, maybe, not seeing the gorgeous face above him while he felt so good would make him fall out of love with it. Dave pushed in deep with every thrust now, hitting the seed flap squarely on and making his legs quiver, his throat whine, his brows knit together. It burned, his entire body burned, but in the kind of frantic fire that had his hands digging into the white of Dave’s skin and his nook on the verge of pulsing, so close, heart beating fast, body entirely consumed in flames. Dave groaned, it was the most angelical thing he had ever heard, and held onto his face with a firm hand, kissed it, so close, breathing the same air. It hurt, he couldn’t let Dave go. He sunk his nails into Dave’s back, anchoring both hands on him, in a pitiful attempt at holding onto this moment, onto their kiss, onto this passion. Dave hissed into his mouth, hips thrusting messier now, deep and haphazard and Karkat knew what that meant. He tightened the nook around Dave and Dave whined against his lips, body going immediately still.

In a split second, he felt something, and in the next, he drowned within himself, thighs in a firm lock around Dave’s waist, nails sinking harmfully into Dave’s skin, and nook pulsing hard, setting his heart off, throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. He moaned, small and trembling and entirely unaware of it as Dave shivered under his claws, mostly quiet now. In the midst of the fire, he felt his cheeks burning through his skin and his chest melting off, bulge trapped in between their stomachs, nook overflowing with genetic material. It was a moment of limbo where he couldn’t breathe, didn’t care to breathe, only moved with the waves that crashed deep through him, slowing, slowing, coming down. He breathed out, Dave pulled out, and their lips met in a breathy, breathless, mute kiss. His legs loosened around Dave, his hands let go of Dave’s back, and Dave’s palm was on his neck, soft, caressing it, as Dave kissed him sweet. He blushed, his heart beat strongly in his chest, reverberating through his rib cage, choking him alive. It was over; they were parting. Dave broke the kiss. 

“Are you okay?” Dave’s voice was a whisper in the darkness, but even that couldn’t pull him up from the abyss. His heart was sinking. 

“Yeah.” 

Dave shuffled around a bit.

“Are, uh, are you sure?” There was an edge of worry in Dave’s voice that ceased his breathing.

His heart skipped a beat, he felt cold all of a sudden. Dave was very clearly referring to something that he was unaware of, and that was concerning. It was terrifying. He pushed Dave off immediately and moved to sit up on the bed, to maybe investigate and see what the human was seeing, but he didn’t need much more than that to get what Dave meant. He was sitting on a puddle of genetic material, he felt it underneath himself, under his thighs, dripping over the edge of Dave’s bed, down to his calves. Probably also onto the floor. He panicked, suddenly breathless, suddenly frozen dead; his face colored, his chest hurt and his eyes watered. He had to go; this was embarrassing beyond measure. It wasn’t supposed to pour out like this, not with someone else, or it defeated the purpose of buckets in the first place and why had this even happened? It had never happened with Gamzee, it had worked as it should with Gamzee, why did he make such a monumental mess now? Why  _ now? _ Maybe this was what happened when excerpts of different species coupled with one another: it didn’t work. He leaped out of the bed and quickly gathered his clothes from the floor. 

“I’m, uh, I have to go. I’m sorry.” He spoke hurriedly, hands trembling around his clothes, fiddling with his boxers, having a ridiculously hard time putting it on. He was shaking, and couldn’t see right, and balancing from foot to foot nearly made him fall on his face. Dave moved on the bed. He couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Hey, wait, Karkat.” Dave was out of the bed, standing next to him now, taking his arm, unknowingly giving him balance, keeping his weak knees from buckling and pushing him straight down. In brief retrospect, Dave had never grabbed him so firmly before. “Are you alright? Are you, like--”

“I’m fine.” He cut the other off, tugging his underwear up with his free hand, which also carried the rest of his clothes. It was more than just a struggle, he felt as if juggling softballs while falling off the side of a building. 

“Are you su--”

“I’m  _ fine!” _ He shouted, entirely against his own volition, but as a sort of primal urge to get it out of his chest while yanking his arm away, free from Dave’s grasp with such force that he had to take a couple of steps back from it, to keep on his feet, stumbling against the desk behind himself by accident. He used it for balance, leaned a hand on it very briefly, before it found his shirt instead and tugged it on over his head, messy and careless as his feet crossed the room toward the door. He’d see himself out without tearful goodbyes, he didn’t give a shit. He was far over this already. Dave followed him, though, beat him to the punch; slipped right in front of him and blocked him from the door. 

“Hey, hey, wait, just, hold on.” Dave had both palms up, an inch away from touching his chest. He stopped walking out before they could touch him, as if repelled. “Just wait a second, okay? Just, calm down. Don’t leave yet.” There was a hint of something in Dave’s voice that he couldn’t identify and it bothered him more than it should have. It was in how strained the words sounded, as if from incredible effort to leave his throat. “Don’t you, um. Do you want a shower?” 

He felt stifled and suffocated and the mess on the bed right behind him weighed on his entire soul with such colossal embarrassment, it drowned him in so much shame that he literally, physically couldn’t stay in this room a second longer. He needed to get out from here, he couldn’t look Dave in the eye, and the partial darkness of the room, seeming darker than before now, brought a certain relief with the fact that he didn’t  _ have _ to look at anything. It was the only reason why he hadn’t completely ran away at this point. If the light had been on the entire time and he had been able to see just how red the entirety of Dave’s ruined blankets were, he’d have had a heart attack. He’d have been so mortified that, instead of running away, he’d just have flung himself out of the window. 

He tried to push past Dave and into the hallway but Dave didn’t let him, thinking he’d gun it for the front door, probably, but he really wasn’t going to. He just needed to be out of this room right now, and probably should’ve made himself clear before trying to leave, but everything he ever did was always fucking backwards and it infuriated him. Yes, he absolutely infuriated himself. Shoving Dave on the chest only led to further entanglement in Dave’s arms, more frustration, more struggle, etc. He wasn’t doing anything right, pissed himself right off, and shoved Dave again. 

“Fuck, let me go!”

“No!”

“I’ll take the shower!” 

Dave let go, then, as an immediate response to that. He easily slipped away from Dave’s arms, huffing and panting under knit brows, still mad at himself, crossed the hallway, and locked himself in the bathroom. 

The lights were off, but there was a small window above the toilet that allowed for some clarity to sift in, somehow. From the stars, probably, or the city lights underneath it, down on the street. He decided against turning the lights on, and, instead, simply threw all of his clothes on the floor. His body ached, he felt disgusting, sticky and sweaty and gross and he could still feel the tingling of Dave’s lips on his own, the hand on his face, the sinking in his heart. He shivered. A warm shower would do him wonders. 

He left the bathroom wrapped up in a towel, the one that smelled of Dave and not of somebody else, probably the brother, if he had to guess. There were only two towels, looking similar in the dark, and a pile of his dirty clothes kicked to the corner, forgotten about. He’d love nothing more than to never see them again, hoping they’d rot on the smooth tiles of Dave’s bathroom or maybe spontaneously combust into flames. He closed the door behind himself, letting fate decide on that.

The lights were on in Dave’s bedroom, the living room, and probably somewhere else, too, because Dave was nowhere to be found. The bed, he could see it from here, had been made, and the floor, if it had truly been spoiled earlier, had been cleaned up. He crossed the hallway and walked in, slowly, with careful steps and a resonating heart. This was fine. It didn’t change the fact that he needed to leave, though, feeling entirely unbecoming in here, but at least he could get changed first. He dropped the damp towel on a chair and walked into the closet, flicked the red overhead light on, that colored all of Dave’s clothes in red, too. Great. How Dave got dressed like this and still managed to wear matching pieces that didn’t clash with one another, it remained a mystery. He, on the other hand, rummaged mostly blindly through the overflowing drawers and pulled out some clothes that didn’t smell too old or too clean. Not unworn, but not worn for too long, either. He put on some boxers, pajama pants, a shirt and considered something else. A sweater, maybe, because he never existed without one, but the shirt already had long sleeves, so, no. He was probably fine. 

Leaving the closet, he came across Dave, all dressed up and taking the wet towel from the back of a chair. At the sight, he paused immediately, feeling sheepish and ridiculous in clothes that didn’t belong to him, especially under the full body glance that Dave gave him in response to it. His face colored, he could feel it. He felt fucking stupid. 

“Sorry, I hope this is okay.” It spewed out from his lips fueled by his great discomfort. 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Dave answered, voice dull and completely unreadable, kind of like the tone that he had used with Karkat’s friends the other day. It cut him like it probably wasn’t supposed to. 

It was time to leave. High time, in fact. He felt it; he had obviously overstayed his welcome and would be seeing himself out in a moment, it was fine. His shoes were right there, on the floor, so he toed them on, swiped his jacket from where he had dropped it earlier, and curved Dave for the door. 

“You’re leaving?” Dave asked, quick, watching his every move with bright, red eyes that followed him. Unconcealed behind shades, they looked wide, big, round and scared, the kind of exposed fragility that pierced through Karkat’s heart and made him understand why Dave always hid behind dark aviators. His emotions flowed freely in the red of his irises, openly displayed to the public, otherwise covered by the shades. 

“Yes.” He spoke while slipping his jacket on and walking out the door, seeing himself down the hallway. Dave followed him, he heard the soft footsteps of socks on hardwood flooring. 

“Okay, um, did I, did I do something? Karkat?”

He crossed the living room and grabbed the door handle. When it didn’t readily open as a result of his pulling, he realized that he had no idea how this safe-like door worked. It had a panel on the wall by the handle with a screen and two buttons, but he’d rather not push those, in fear of breaking it, or getting a scalding from Dave, or, worse, from his big brother. He swallowed thickly, trying to drown out Dave’s question with an overworking mind and not feel the hurt in his voice shooting straight through his chest. Figuring out this weird door felt less emotionally taxing at the moment. He couldn’t see why Dave would be upset about this. 

Dave stopped beside him, turned to him, in his peripheral, so he tilted his head to the opposite side some, out of instinct, to keep from staring into those big, worrisome reds. He felt awful. He needed to fucking leave. 

“What did I do?” Dave asked in a small and quiet tone that hurt to hear. It formed a lump in his throat. 

“Nothing, Dave, I just  _ need _ to go home. Open this door.” 

Dave hesitated, he saw it from the corner of his eye, the way his feet stepped and shuffled for a whole two seconds before he turned, probably pushed a button, and the door opened. Karkat pulled the handle and let himself out. 

“Are you mad at me?” Dave asked from the door, standing underneath the frame, but not that Karkat was looking. He dashed to the elevators and called for one, the closest one to him, it didn’t matter which floor it was at. The hinges clunked loudly up the empty shaft in response, the elevator was rising to meet him. 

“Karkat, please, just tell me what I did.” That sounded very, very strained, suspiciously so, but he didn’t want to turn around to confirm his theory, because, if he turned out to be right, then he wouldn’t be able to bear facing the truth, facing the sight of it. It’d be too much, and all his fault, too. It’d break him, and he wouldn’t do a thing to fix it, completely useless and drenched in evil. Going down that path, in an act of cruel self-preservation, he’d just let Dave cry and not cry behind his back. Schrödinger’s farewell. 

He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his wet lump of hair. 

“Nothing, Dave, I just have to go.” 

He felt like fucking shit. 

Silence. He bit his tongue, listened to the rattling chains of the elevator, tried to ignore the growing lump in his throat. Dave didn’t say anything else, but there was no sound of the door closing, either, so he was probably just standing there, waiting for an explanation, for some sort of humanity out of Karkat, but nothing. He’d get nothing, not out of Karkat, and it was brutal, yes, and it hurt, yes, but this was for the best. They were over, either way; no reason to prolong the inevitable. 

The elevator arrived. Without glancing over his shoulder, he stepped in, and pressed the first floor. 

It was only in the abandoned lobby, already rushing toward the front door with no lock, that he remembered the curfew. He froze in place, arm halfway extended to reach for the knob. Fuck, he was an idiot. He was the biggest fucking idiot and couldn’t go out at all, trapped in this building until morning. He remembered the cops from earlier, while he and Dave waited for the bus together, and how hateful their glare had been. How much they’d have enjoyed maiming him before dumping him in the basement of 27-A for rehab. The vivid memory made him shudder, hug himself. He stepped away from the door, completely empty on the inside, worthless and loathsome, both to society and to himself. He’d have to go up to the penthouse and see Dave again. He’d have to break Dave’s heart twice for being a despicable idiot. 

He hated himself during the entire ride up, and the whole ten feet across the hall, and the two minutes that it took him to find the doorbell. This was a confusing door that he had never seen before and absolutely, perfectly hated. It was official now. He punched the buzzer with a certain amount of chagrin coursing his veins. 

Not too long after, Dave answered, shades perched atop his nose and pajamas on, casual but chic, the kind of fashion that said he didn’t fucking want anyone visiting him right now. Karkat watched his reflection on the aviators, hating how much of an asshole he looked to be, and how much worse he already knew it was going to get. 

“I can’t go home.” He explained simply, expecting Dave to slam the door in his face and maybe break his nose while doing so. Instead, Dave just stepped back, wordlessly letting him in. He felt like a heap of trash accepting the invitation. 

“Why?” Dave asked in the dull and emotionless tone that he used with complete strangers. It hurt, it colored Karkat’s cheeks with shame and had his eyes dropping to the ground. 

“Because of the curfew. I forgot about it.” Like a  _ massive _ idiot. 

“That’s a thing?”

“Yeah.” 

Dave started across the living room, and toward the hallway, so he followed. They walked into his room where the bed was already messed up again, which meant he had dragged Dave out of bed to open the door and let him in like a damn plague, or the sort of cancer committed to killing the host. Dave took a pillow from the bed, a blanket from the dresser with the crooked drawers, and walked over to the bedroom door. 

“Wake me up if you need anything.” Dave said. His dispassionate, flat, and indifferent tone of voice absolutely killed Karkat, it killed him from the inside, it rotted his innards through like poison and it cut his stomach open like an impossible knife trying to escape digestion. He hurt, but said nothing as Dave turned and left for the living room, flicking the lights off as he went, swallowing the apartment in darkness. 

And to think, not twenty minutes ago, he was swallowing Dave’s tongue down his throat. 

He crawled under the blankets, buried himself deep into the pillows, surrounded himself in Dave’s scent, existence, and all the luxuries of what a human life had to offer, and spent the night experiencing bittersweet visions of himself and Dave murdering each other over and over again, in a tireless cycle through an unfulfilling rest. 


	6. Disorderly conduct

They didn’t very well look at each other. Dave poured some milk into a bowl of cereal while he ate Pop-Tarts on the counter and tried not to stare. It was awkward, he felt wholly unbecoming, but Dave didn’t say a word to him, and he daren’t break the silence for it, either. He’d just sit, and eat, and try not to be more of a nuisance than he already felt to be, and truly was. He dumbly watched Dave go about his morning routine without a single word in his mouth, but with about a million flooding his mind. Mostly, he was just sorry. He was sorry for everything, the entire evening, and getting Dave to sleep with him in the first place. It shouldn’t have happened, he knew that now. He had pushed Dave into it when Dave had said that they shouldn’t, but even though this was a terrible morning after, and they were probably estranged now, and Dave would most likely never talk to him again, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret the night before. All that he felt for it was a sort of longing; a dull ache for a taste of what he could’ve never had. He flung the empty Pop-Tarts box into the trash. They were late for class. 

In the bus, Dave unzipped his bag and handed him a mostly unused notebook. 

“Here, you forgot your backpack.” He explained, and his voice held some of the affectionate tilt that he usually used with Karkat. Even if it wasn’t all there, it was enough to make Karkat’s heart skip a beat and his hands bring the notebook to his chest. 

“Thank you.” 

Maybe Dave didn’t really hate him, in the end.

They crossed the campus together to the building where they shared a few classes twice a week, but that today wasn’t one of them, even if they still studied here during the same hours. The humans had classes in the topmost floors while the trolls had the first and second ones. As they meandered down the hallway, passing by rows of classroom doors, Karkat stopped in front of the one that he was supposed to go through for first period. It was closed, and he could hear the professor’s lecture very faintly from the outside. Dave stopped next to him. 

“Will I see you again?” Dave asked. He sounded worried and the near-imperceptible crease of his brow confirmed that. 

“Yeah.” Karkat answered, truthfully. If anything, they’d see each other next week for those two classes in pairs, anyway, despite what had passed.

Dave nodded, paused, and hesitated to leave. Something was holding him in place here, maybe something that he needed to say, maybe something that he should probably do, that had him stuck by Karkat for a second longer, in silence, unmoving. Karkat wanted to kiss him goodbye; wanted to take his upper arm as firmly as Dave had grabbed him last night and pull him down for a kiss, feel Dave’s lips on his face again, touch him as tenderly as he had done the night before, holding his cheek, caressing his neck. Breath escaped him along with his volition and had him boneless instead, watching Dave resolve his mental impasse, not going through with anything, and simply stepping back, away. 

He walked into class in clothes that didn’t belong to him, clutching a foreign notebook to his chest, and with a wall of tears over his eyes that only grew thicker with each of his steps, to no one’s scrutiny. There might’ve been glances here and there, but, ultimately, he crossed the classroom unnoticed, and took the seat reserved to him between Sollux and Aradia, not looking up to meet with their eyes. He knew, however, that his friends had watched him very closely from the first moment that he had appeared past the door. He knew that Sollux was more than ready and eager to rip into him about the whole human thing, too, but after he took his seat and placed the notebook down, both mentally and emotionally prepared for Sollux’s banter, none of it came. Sollux, quiet? That didn’t suit him, it wasn’t like him at all. Karkat wiped the corner of his eyes with his jacket cuffs before glancing at his friend. 

Sollux had a deeply worrying look on his face that actually, sincerely scared him. 

“What?” He whispered, already growing concerned himself. In response, Sollux’s brows only creased harder together. 

“What did he do?” Sollux whispered back, voice quiet with seriousness. This tone, so worryingly stern, didn’t fit him. It was terrifying. “What did he do to you?”

“Dave?” His heart made for his throat. Dave wasn’t the villain of this story, or the reason for his tears, or the dull aching in his chest. It was all him, and that was what broke his heart the most. “Nothing; he didn’t do anything.” 

He hoped to not have hurt Dave too much, or, at least, not irreparably so. Maybe he could make it right, if Dave was willing to speak with him still. If Dave cared to look in his face at all. 

Sollux didn’t seem to have bought that in the slightest but decided against pushing him, allowing the topic to die, and the both of them to glance back at the front of the class, where the professor went on with the lecture, ignoring the students completely. From the corner of his eye, Karkat saw gray faces staring at him, so he turned to look. The other three, sitting on his right, had their eyes set on him, in a sort of cascade of looks; Aradia seemed shaken, but not too visibly; Xefros, at the very end, bore huge, wide reds accompanied by a worried frown; and Dammek, in between the two, looked murderous. Worryingly murderous, with a deep scowl on his forehead and a firmly set jaw. Karkat’s blood ran cold; Dammek would hunt Dave down to extinction. He leaned forward, closer to the three, into Aradia’s personal space, his voice a stern whisper. 

“Don’t hurt him.” He said, staring fixed into Dammek’s copper orbs. They squinted in reply, but Dammek didn’t headbutt him for once, choosing to remain silent instead. At least, for right now. Dammek turned away from him, and he backed out of Aradia’s desk. 

Lunch turned out to be uneventful at most, with servings of predictably disgusting and crusty old food that they ate anyway fully knowing that that would be the reason of their tragically short life span a few years down the road. They washed it all down with some Kool-Aid and left for the training field. 

The iolitebloods were practicing with the amethystbloods today and, despite his growing dread coupled with disgust, Karkat still found himself looking for Gamzee in the middle of the crowd. He hadn’t seen the guy since the incident and sincerely wondered what had happened to him then, if he had been taken to rehab on that medical cot, if he were okay, and, most of all, what had passed through his mind while he climbed the fence like a savage animal. He frowned while focusing, trying his best to point out the tallest, biggest pair of horns among some pretty impressively tall ones moving fast around the field, running the track like perfectly trained champions, but it ended up being a harder task to accomplish than previously imagined. The conglomerate was composed of too many, their hill was located decently far from the fence, the chain links made it harder to see, and the moving mass of trolls zipped too fast past the closest side of the field. He only managed to find Gamzee after having given up, and resorting to watching some of the slower trolls instead, who jogged so underwhelmingly unhurried that the more determined highbloods had lapped them more than once. It was as surprising to find Gamzee getting lapped as it was to not find him amid the group of lappers. Karkat got up from the hill and moved to the fence. 

“Gamzee!” He shouted, voice so loud that it would’ve reverberated straight into his rib cage if the field had a single wall in it. “Gamzee, over here!” 

The Capricorn leisurely glanced about himself, looking confused, but only until seeing Karkat from across the fence, waving with an arm for his attention. Given this week’s happenings, he probably shouldn’t be calling for Gamzee right now, beckoning him like a toreador just outside of the arena, but he didn’t feel to be under immediate danger, and his curiosity overshadowed his fear. Plus, self-destructive habits were his best friends. 

Gamzee walked over. Walked, since that was what he had been doing this entire time, instead of running or even jogging along with his peers. It took him a good, long minute to approach the fence, but he very visibly wasn’t in a hurry, and neither were the other five, resting on the hill. 

“Hey, bro.” He greeted, half-lidded and sluggish and wholly, completely, one hundred percent high. There wasn’t a single cell in his body that wasn’t swimming in Diazepam, it seemed like. A wide, lazy grin spread across his face, the kind that Karkat had seen thousands of times before, but that, now, unnerved him, because it very clearly hadn’t been induced by sopor slime, or Gamzee’s own will. 

“Hey, Gamzee…” He paused. Suddenly, he couldn’t go through with the questions roaming around in his brain. He felt sheepish, but Gamzee was high like never before, so what was the big deal? The guy probably wouldn’t even remember this an hour from now, anyway. His inhibitions were for naught and entirely stupid, matching with the rest of his person. He cleared his throat, finding some confidence buried deep within. “What was I supposed to guess the other day?” 

“Huh?” 

Gamzee looked so out of it that it was almost pitiful, and would have been pitied if they didn’t have a certain history between themselves. But Karkat wasn’t thinking about that. 

“Last Tuesday, when you charged for us. You asked me to guess something, but I never did.” 

Gamzee glanced off to the side, seeming to be in thought, but could also not even have heard the words that had just been directed at him. Karkat snapped two fingers in his face, to get his attention, but even his reaction time to that was off. Slower than it should’ve been. 

“I’m talking to you, clown.” 

“I was off medication, brother. I wanted you to guess that. I was the most sober I had ever been, you know. It felt like it. I was unstoppable, I was powerful. I could’ve ruled the world that Tuesday.” 

He frowned. 

“I was going to escape from here.” 

“Were you?” His own voice sounded doleful to his own ears. “Where would you go?” 

“Across the street, to that one bakery. They make apple pies and I’ve never had one.” 

His shoulders dropped. To think he had stood in front of a real human fridge just this morning, after ruining someone’s life, with the possibility of rummaging around for some pie at his damn leisure, when trolls like Gamzee were forbidden to even step foot out of the trajectory mapped out for them was devastating. He felt like a spoiled brat that had been given gold and vomited on top of it. 

“Why don’t you run away for good? Nevermind the pie, just make a break for it.” 

“Maybe next time I will.” 

If Gamzee were ever put down, at least he’d go down trying. 

Karkat couldn’t shake the foreboding from his skin for the rest of the day. 

“Man, I didn’t want to say anything, but…” Sollux shrugged. He swirled his cup around from the bottom, mindlessly fidgeting with it while watching some trolls pass by their table, walking out of the cafeteria after having finished their dinners. Not many people still remained by now. “Gamzee is in a worse shape than I thought he’d be.” 

“I know, I’m, fuck, I’m kind of worried about him.” Karkat admitted, feeling a pang in his chest, something heavy sinking his heart, his rib cage piercing through it. He hated himself for feeling sympathetic toward the one and only person who so horrifically, so atrociously broke his undivided trust to the point of scarring him away from trusting others, from knowing a life free of suspicion and paranoia. Their relationship had been a maniacal bloodbath; his past self had been murdered in such a way that he had never been the same after having crossed paths with Gamzee, the single most damaging troll in his life. Yet, here he was now, feeling bad for the guy. Pitying him, as if he deserved it, as if he deserved even an ounce of it. He made himself sick. 

“I thought he’d get sent to the military, but I’m not so sure about that anymore. I mean, if they’re resorting to darts as a cautionary measure you can tell his days are counted.” 

“Don’t say that.” Karkat spit out through sharp teeth. “You don’t know shit, Dammek.” 

Dammek shrugged, looking wholly unpreoccupied with the fate of a fellow troll. 

“I’m just giving you my two cents on it, but, hey, I could be wrong. Who knows, he might be just what the government needs in the battlefield.” 

Karkat spent the evening with a clenched jaw, and the night in very disturbed sleep. His only solace was not remembering a single one of his nightmares, although, deep inside, he knew that they had been about his ex-best friend, even if he had a funny feeling of having seen copper-colored blood splattered about somewhere. Must’ve been in his subconscious.

The morning brought them a cold breakfast, an even colder forecast, and Karkat’s inability to remove Dave’s clothes from his body. He procrastinated in the bathroom, pacing around the locker room, feeling the smooth and soft fabric of the shirt under his palms, the warmth of the pants around his legs. He touched the design covering his heart, a record, and remembered the first time that he had seen it, splayed across Dave’s chest when they first met. He grabbed it, wrinkled the design under a fist, his throat suddenly closing, a lump forming in it. He couldn’t do it, was physically unable to do it. He took the collar and brought it up to his nose, inhaled. It very faintly smelled of Dave still, the cinnamon of his body, the scent of his sweat. Karkat collapsed on a nearby bench.

God, he fucking missed him. The lips on his own, the hands on his face, the body above him; he missed it all. He ran a hand down his face, feeling his eyes well up. Might as well take that shower now. 

Peeling the shirt overhead felt like a farewell. A rite of passage that he wasn’t ready for. 

The shower was cold, his own clothes were cold, and he didn’t wear the purple hoodie today. It sat crumpled up in the back of his wardrobe, pushed far into the corner with some of the next laundry batch to do this weekend. He placed Dave’s clothes in there, too, carefully atop it all. He dreaded Dave’s scent being completely washed off from his clothes, but, not breaking the rite, he’d take the risk. It might mean something if, instead of Dave’s clothes acquiring the scent of soap, all of his clothes in the washing machine ended up acquiring Dave’s scent. Survival of the fittest. 

Class was unimportant and violin practice was torture. He didn’t take any notes during the entirety of the morning, only sat in his seat staring at the two scribbled pages of the mostly new notebook that Dave had gifted him the day before. Those two pages were filled with small, handwritten words in red ink, a little sloppy by perfectly legible, and, to Karkat, the nicest penmanship that he had ever seen. He traced the lines with his fingers, the world around him entirely drowned out from his mind so only the very dull sound of the heartbeat in his rib cage reached him. He regretted the other night, he noticed. He regretted it now. He probably wouldn’t have done anything different given a second chance, and, actually, would’ve done the first two-thirds of it over and over again in the exact same way, but he still regretted how it all turned out to be in the end. Mostly, how  _ he _ had acted, suddenly defensive, suddenly stifled and seeking escape at any cost. He should’ve looked Dave in the face, he knew that. He should’ve looked at Dave when he was crying, not have left Dave to be a Schrödinger’s problem, he shouldn’t have given up on Dave so easily, he shouldn’t have shut Dave out, he shouldn’t have… 

He followed his friends outside with the notebook clutched to his chest. It was nearly lunch time, and as they left the classroom, came across a group of human kids crossing the hallway toward the double exit doors. Not allowed to mingle, some of the trolls waited by the walls, and some slipped back inside of the classroom, until all of the humans had left the building and they could press on. Karkat, up front by his peers, and with eyes wide and alert, spotted Dave right away. His heart immediately responded to that by leaping up to his throat, but he paid it no mind, following the aviators with his eyes as they came closer, the stream of humans practically passing right in front of him. The shades directed themselves at him and he felt a sort of electric shock zap right through him, rooting him straight into the tiles. He couldn’t move, or very well breathe, only stare back, eyes wide and blank, from his spot by the wall. Dave walked past just five feet away from him, so close that Karkat could almost smell the cinnamon of his clothes. Shades stared into bright red orbs, intensely locked together for a whole ten seconds, before they moved away and Dave followed the humans out of the building. 

It was the most painful feeling in the world. 

His friends and the other trolls filled up the hallway once the humans were gone, and walked out as well, going straight toward the cafeteria. His mind was a blank slate overflowing with static as his slow legs moved, his defective lungs breathed, and he towed behind his peers. He felt hollowed out inside, as if his innards had been scooped out with a big spoon, and had only left a dull, but resounding, ache behind; his body a deflated and depressive old balloon. He was a second away from crying, he knew that. The smallest thing could push him over the edge at any moment now, he just didn’t expect it to be Dave’s own voice. 

“Karkat.” 

He paused immediately. Didn’t turn around, didn’t move at all, didn’t even breathe, seized of his very existence in what felt to be a rip in the woven thread of spacetime continuum. Steps approached him from behind, and, right in front of him, he saw all of his friends turn around to face the human. Dammek was inscrutable behind the shades while everyone else wore a mixture of surprise and anger on their brows, which all started to look watery and shaky and not very focused, but, shit, maybe that was him. Maybe that was on him.

“Um, can we talk?” Spoken directly beside him, making him close his eyes, feel the tears prickling at the corners. He turned around.

He never thought he’d get to see Dave from up close again.

“Sure.” 

He didn’t currently inhabit his own body, but watched from above as it moved and spoke for him. In retrospect, that sure had been an interesting choice for a response considering his entire brain shouted  _ yes, please _ and every cell in his body begged for Dave to touch him, to use  _ that _ tone with him, to not look so uncomfortable. Uncomfortable? Dave shifted his weight from one foot to the other, visibly intimidated, put off from talking too much or remaining restful. It might’ve been the four trolls standing directly behind Karkat, posing an unified front against him, an indestructible wall that had him dangerously outnumbered.

“I was thinking, maybe, just you and me.” 

“Why?” Dammek instantly cut in, his rude voice firm and probably a decibel louder than necessary. Intimidation tactics that, at this point, were overkill. “Is there something we shouldn’t know?” 

Karkat kept quiet. Not out of choice, but because he was so petrified in place, mute and dumb, that his brain shut down entirely and his heart went off in his chest. If he could’ve controlled that, he would’ve died. The clash of titans slowly unfolded right before his very eyes.

“Um, no, it’s just kind of personal.” Dave explained calmly, but there was an edge of annoyance in his voice that had Karkat’s blood freezing and his eyes widening. It was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion.

He felt a hand rest atop his head, gripping it, almost firm enough to hurt, but just shy of doing that, and of course it belonged to Dammek, standing right beside him, looming like a protective entity. This so very obviously manipulative gesture hung just on the verge of being affectionate with how he almost ruffled Karkat’s hair, almost ran fingers through it, instead held a firm grip onto his scalp. It was weird to be under Dammek’s protection for once, because that was what this was; Dammek asserting dominance over him, posing a front against the human. He felt weird. He wanted to glance over at Xefros, see what read in his eyes, know if this was okay, or if Dammek was acting out of code again, because Dammek had only done this sort of thing with Xefros before and Karkat felt unbecoming. He didn’t want anything to do with these two, but maybe it was only a tetrarch thing?

“Do you mind if we stay for this, Karkat?” Dammek asked, sounding so close, so cocky, completely sure that the answer would be in his favor. 

Playing the game, Karkat delivered. 

“No,” he answered, not because of the masterful hand urging him to, but because he sincerely didn’t mind having his friends listen to this. Maybe then they’d start to believe him when he said that Dave hadn’t done anything wrong, much less pushed him into doing something that he didn’t want to do, and even less deliberately hurt him. As publicly acknowledged, he was at fault for all of the above, including what had so painfully ricocheted back to him. 

Dammek ran those fingers through his hair as a reward for having answered correctly and that put a crease in between Dave’s brows; it made his fists close and his jaw set. Was he jealous? What even was this reaction? Karkat couldn’t pin a name to it but he couldn’t say that it wasn’t extremely interesting to see. It almost made him feel better about this entire thing, almost, if only his chest didn’t feel like it had been stabbed twenty-seven times in the past five minutes. 

“Karkat, I want to speak with you alone.” Dave’s voice was firmer now, surer of itself. “Without these creeps around.” 

“That’s not an option.” Dammek clarified, his tone infuriatingly assertive as he pulled Karkat close for emphasis, the hand on his head yanking him toward Dammek’s chest, probably just to get at Dave. He ducked and dodged away from Dammek’s grasp, though, only to have that hand clasped onto his shoulder now, drawing him against Dammek’s side anyway, under the guy’s wing. 

That, for some reason, had Dave stepping closer, chest out and shoulders squared. Shit.

“Hey, don’t fucking touch him like that.” Dave’s voice sounded too soft for how pissed he looked to have been, but that didn’t stop him from confronting Dammek either way. 

“Dave--” Karkat started, because this was bad, this was the worst; they would all get in so much trouble; the two trains were just about colliding; the Titanic was about to meet the iceberg, but Dammek cut him off, louder and more determined to make it happen and see it through than he was to prevent it.

“Don’t fucking use that tone with me.” 

“Hey, guys.” Sollux willingly jumped into the fire, palms up as he stepped next to the two clashing parties, Dave at his left, and the trolls at his right. “Hey--”

A useless self-sacrifice.

“Let him go.” Dave cut in, insistent, wholly ignoring Sollux and reaching over to Dammek instead, to tear his arm away from across Karkat’s shoulders. It worked, in the sense that Dammek let him go, but that was to use his hands to shove the human back. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” 

“Guys!” Sollux shouted, to no avail in stopping either one of the two, as Dave closed the gap between them with two fists on Dammek’s shirt, and Dammek immediately jabbed him in the face in response to that, just not hard enough for Dave to let go of him. 

All Hell broke loose. 

Dave and Dammek punched each other anywhere they could, accidentally elbowing the trolls around them as they went, wholly careless about anything other than making each other bruise, consequentially getting the others to immediately try and stop this, putting themselves in between the two under flying punches and hard shoves. They were clinging so forcefully onto each other, however, that the others couldn’t physically tear them apart, only manage to hold an arm or another back, mid-punch, which inadvertently allowed openings for the other to get some more punches in with no defense to block them. 

The four soon become better at grabbing fists and successfully holding onto them, which helped in starting to deescalate the situation. Slowly, there began to have less punches and more shoves, which were just misses directed at a face, even if the livid anger to gut one another alive remained. They huffed and grunted, finally starting to come down, very minutely, until Dave elbowed Xefros by accident, hard and violent in a misstep that nearly had him falling on his ass, and, instead, pushed Xefros down into the ground. With that, what looked to have been progressing into a peaceful atmosphere suddenly reversed, and doubled in violence, with Dammek angrier than before, clawing to make Dave bleed now, and his anger triggering Dave into fighting harder, swinging without holding back. The other trolls were practically elbowed out of the way as the two grabbed onto each other again.

That seemed to have been the last straw for Sollux, because he stepped back from the thick of the fight and put two fingers to his temples, using his psionic prowess to force the two apart. He chose his targets correctly, Dave enveloped by a red aura and Dammek swallowed in blue, but his strength was miscalculated and sent the two flying in opposing directions. Dammek, with a wall of friends behind him, was only pushed back a few feet and dropped onto the ground alongside everybody else, while Dave quite literally flew back on his own, coming down hard on his arm. The fist exchange ended with everyone groaning in the dirt and slowly getting up to stand on their feet. 

Dave, however, remained down. Karkat was the first to notice that and run straight to him. 

“Oh, shit, fuck, are you okay?” He asked hurriedly, kneeling down by Dave’s side, watching him hoist himself up with a single hand on the ground. Dave looked absolutely wrecked, as if he had just survived a hurricane, in pain, brows furrowed and teeth bared. He sat up, flinching, holding onto an arm. Fuck. “Did you break it? Did you break that?” 

“No, I’m fine.” Dave answered through gritted teeth, moving with difficulty but managing to get up the rest of the way, to stand on both feet, no help requested. Karkat got up to follow him. 

“Are you sure? Let me look at it.” 

“No, Karkat, fuck. I  _ get it.”  _ Dave nearly shouted. Nearly. It was the closest that Karkat had ever seen him to raising his voice, yet, it hadn’t happened, even if it completely killed him anyway. “I get it, alright? I’ll leave you the fuck alone.” 

“What?” 

“Fuck off!” Dammek shouted from thirty feet away, where the others held him by the arms and kept hands on his chest, securing him from lashing out again. In response to that, Dave flipped him off and turned to leave. 

Karkat grabbed his arm as a first instinct to stop him from walking out; the hurt one, by accident. He wasn’t thinking, his body had simply latched onto Dave as fast as it could have, which earned a hard shove from Dave’s uninjured arm, forceful enough to have Karkat stumbling back, letting him go. He simply stared at that, wide-eyed and speechless, even though a series of apologies just about hung off of his tongue. Dave shrugged him off, not looking at him, and left. 

Dave’s name got caught in his throat and he couldn’t call it. All he could do was watch Dave walk out with tears in his eyes and a burning on his chest from where Dave had shoved him.

He broke, tears flowing and lungs deflated, throat closed up in a knot, fist clutching onto his own shirt, over where it ached. He choked in his own sobs something disgusting, quiet, muffled by his own mouth, not loud enough for Dave to hear over the chatter and laughter of distant passersby mingled with the rustling of the leaves and the chirping of the birds. He sniffled but air didn’t make it into his lungs, he gasped but wind got stuck in his throat. He was suffocating within himself and Dave was nowhere in sight anymore. He shut his eyes, wiped at his face, opened them up again, tried looking for Dave because maybe it was just the tears, maybe it wasn’t all real, maybe he was wrong. Maybe the emptiness in the hollow of his chest didn’t project into the empty field ahead of himself. He wiped, and wiped, and wiped, the cuffs of his jacket were damp, the skin under his eyes hurt, but Dave still wasn’t there. Dave wouldn’t ever be there anymore. He covered his face in both palms and finally allowed himself to hurt, sobbing so hard his shoulders shook with it, crying so hard his throat ached with it. He was a mess and everything about him stung. 

A hand touched him on the elbow, softly, making him look up from his palms in a shock and breathe in deep because maybe, maybe… 

It was only Xefros. He couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“Hey…” Xefros gave his arm a friendly squeeze, supportive and kind. He felt numb, irreparably broken. “You’ll be okay. Trust me, you’ll be okay. Do you need a hug?” 

He shook his head, couldn’t even get a word out. His throat hurt bad, it was still shut tight, so tight that air didn’t even come in. He parted his lips and forced some wind into his lungs, his shoulders shaking, his body trembling. He felt rotten inside. 

Xefros gave his arm another friendly squeeze before letting go completely. 

“Are you still having lunch? ‘Cause if you’re not, I can just make you company, if you need someone, you know?” 

He nodded, wiping the last of the tears away. Despite former disappointment, Xefros had still managed to get him breathing and calming down. Slowly, slowly filling his lungs to the brim, the tears lessened, and ended. He sighed. 

“We can eat.” His voice was strained, and it hurt his throat, but at least it was there. 

Xefros nodded back to him, then turned to face the others, who waited by the little dirt path leading to the cafeteria. Karkat kept his gaze down and walked by muscle memory. 

The rest of the day was pointless. 


	7. Actionable comportment, a desperate cry, a last resort

“We need that meeting more than ever now.” Dammek said over dinner, about an hour before the meeting was scheduled to begin. They hadn’t been back to that Irish pub since last week, and would be hosting the rebellious gathering on plain luck if they managed to get around fifteen to twenty underage and inconspicuous trolls in without raising suspicion or drawing attention to themselves. Karkat wasn’t so sure about that, but he honestly didn’t care to contest Dammek, either. “We need to discuss the threats humans pose to our society.” 

He was so struck with grief, dull and resounding through every cell of his body, that his ears heard but his brain didn’t listen. He was a living corpse.

“I believe we are all very aware of the threats. What I think we should do now is find ways to deal with them. Disarm the humans, somehow.” 

“I don’t think we can disarm them, Aradia. Not when their weaponry is literally ingrained in their DNA.” 

“But we should definitely find ways to get around that kind of unjust power still.” 

Words, a lot of words, a lot of sounds. He stared blankly into the abyss, hoping it’d consume him as painfully as it could.

“Yeah, I mean, I have some thoughts on that myself, but I’d like to hear what the others have to say, too.” 

Even through his absolute destruction, he could still hear Dammek’s smug tone, his disgusting self-regard, the complacency that put this guy so far up above the others to his own damn eyes. What truly involved leader preaching equality had himself on a fucking pedestal? Karkat wanted to barf. Dammek’s very existence was a red flag in itself, dangerous and untrustworthy by nature. Sketchy as all Hell. How was Xefros in love with him? The short answer would be that he wasn’t, and Dammek was entirely unlovable, but, for as much as Karkat wanted to believe it, he just couldn’t bring himself to do that. It was a thought that put another knot above all the ones already in his stomach. 

Everyone got up to leave for the pub, Karkat in tow, seething, ornery, except they didn’t make it very far, or even outside. The security guard who usually either stood by the entrance doors or hung out in the cabin next to the front gate stopped Dammek with a fat hand on his shoulder, making everybody else stop, too. Not only because Dammek was at the front of the pack, leading, but because he was essentially one of them, and what regarded him usually regarded everybody else, too. He constantly made a point of that, even if it annoyed Karkat to the limit. 

“Dammek, right?” The security guard asked. 

“Yes. Who wants to know?” 

“The Nurse. You’re being requested down in the basement.” 

Of course; it didn’t even shock Karkat to hear that. In fact, he was glad that it was finally happening. It surprised him that it took so long, actually; that they hadn’t taken Dammek in way before this, before he had even had a chance to get a hit in. They should’ve sedated him the moment he had first raised his voice at Dave. 

In juxtaposition to Karkat’s support toward this whole thing, however, Xefros immediately latched onto Dammek’s arm, claws and all, holding onto him as if for dear life. Oh.

“No.” Xefros whispered, eyes wide and scared under a deep worrisome crease between his brows. He looked to have just heard the worst, most tragic news of his entire life, and it was over some douchebag who treated him like garbage. Great, another idiot to the club that Karkat had fucking founded. He shouldn’t have been surprised, even if it pained him to see Xefros look so devastated.

Very casually, Dammek turned to him, and to everybody else, as well, with his perfectly cool façade in check, despite currently carrying the shades folded and hung on the collar of his hoodie. He didn’t need them for this; with or without the aviators, he was the epitome of insouciance before the audience of four who watched him, passing onto them a sort of reassurance, in spite of the circumstances. Xefros seemed to have been the only one unaffected by it, still gripping onto his arm with silent desperation. 

“It’s fine, guys. It’s for a good cause.” Dammek calmly justified himself, then looked straight into Xefros’ eyes, addressing him next. “I’ll be alright.” 

“No.” Xefros repeated himself under a breath, welling up with tears and refusing to let go of his moirail at all costs. Dammek said nothing else, seeming to not even have acknowledged that; he simply took Xefros’ face in a hand and brought him in for a kiss, leaning down to seal their mouths together in the process, so they met halfway through his orchestration, hard-hitting enough to have his thumb dig into the meat of Xefros’ cheek, keeping him in place. 

Dammek didn’t look worried at all, actually; swimming in self-confidence, kissing his moirail with eyes closed. Xefros, on the other hand, seemed to have been on the edge of a calamitous breakdown with how hard he frowned and how fast he latched onto the kiss. The way he clung to Dammek’s face with both hands, so desperate, so anguished, showed just how much he cared, how much Dammek meant to him. The kiss was chaste, but bearing strong emotions, and soon enough Dammek was breaking it to part from his moirail. Xefros tried to pull him back for another one, but Dammek kept him at bay with the firm hold on his jaw. 

Dammek let go of Xefros, and, against every fiber in his being, Xefros did the same. It was clear that he cared to follow Dammek’s orders and will more than his own conscience or feelings to contest any of this. He might just have been the best subordinate of them all. 

“Go on and hold the meeting.” Dammek informed them on his way toward the staircase. “Don’t let tonight go to waste.” His eyes trained themselves on Xefros for the last part before he turned and disappeared down the stairs. 

No one really moved right away. They took an important moment to look at each other, really look at each other, and contemplate the fact that they were all still here, despite how apparently easy it was to get admitted into rehab. For as much as Karkat didn’t like Dammek, a lot or at all, he still hoped that the guy would actually turn out to be alright from the intravenous drugs that were about to roam his bloodstream and make him unconscious; that he’d learn his lesson and never get himself sent down there again, but only for Xefros’ sake. Xefros was the only one too busy crying to participate in this collective moment of appreciation of everyone’s safety, but they could understand that. Karkat put a hand on his shoulder and guided his blind steps alongside the other two as they made their way out of the building, finally starting off for the pub. 

They all managed to get in without making a big fuss of it, or draw too much attention onto themselves, and took seats at the furthermost table in the corner of the establishment. Of the rebellion, they were the first ones here, but it didn’t take long for the others to show. They all kept their voices low and conversation topics inconspicuous for the moment, until the rest should arrive. The braver ones dared to bother Sollux asking after the “tetrarch” but Sollux refrained from disclosing what had happened, at least for the moment. He said that he’d open the meeting with that once everybody had arrived. 

As they waited, one of the guest trolls scooted closer to the four of them, sitting at the head of the joined tables, and placed his bag on the floor. They all watched as the guy unzipped it to reveal dozens of water bottles stacked inside, as well as some orange juice cartons. Sollux stared at him. 

“You brought water?”

“I brought water.” They guy winked. 

Right. Water. 

Sollux grinned wide. 

“Pass these around, I’ll start the meeting soon.” 

Everyone got assigned to a bottle and started casually sipping on it, some mixing in some orange juice, others downing it straight. Karkat sampled some of it to at least try and guess what kind of alcohol it was, and the first thing that he noticed was how strong it tasted, how hard it burned on the way down. He put the bottle down immediately; they’d need far more orange juice than this. Luckily, being a close friend of Dammek’s came with some perks in this case, and  _ only _ in this exact scenario, which meant his word was highly important among the followers, so when he asked for some juice, they handed him an entire carton. He grinned; maybe Dammek’s friendship wasn’t so useless after all. 

Sollux soon opened the meeting with what had happened earlier, and informed the twenty trolls before him of Dammek’s current whereabouts. An uproarious commotion followed of angry trolls cursing the system and even angrier trolls wanting to go and rescue their tetrarch immediately, making a big scene in the pub. They all seemed to be pretty drunk already, even if a quick glance around the bottles on the table tried to prove otherwise. They hadn’t had much at all, not yet, which just solidified how hard-hitting this liquor was. Karkat poured himself a third of a glass and filled it with juice before even remotely starting to fuck with this kind of thing. He had never been drunk before, so this should’ve been fun. It should’ve helped him cope with the horrendous day that he had just had. 

The evening started off loud and obnoxious for a good half hour until the pub owner stopped by their table to ask them to quiet down, and draw less attention onto themselves, or the other customers might call the authorities on them. He didn’t care that these underage trolls were soaking themselves in alcohol in his establishment, he just didn’t want the word to get out, or he’d get in trouble for them. At that, the table tried to keep to indoor voices and less drunken noise in general, but the energy of action remained, and had some trolls up and walking around, circling the table, some simply standing up on their feet to  _ do _ something. Karkat remained in his seat, mostly listening to whatever dumb shit people talked around him, laughing at it, sipping on his drink,  _ not _ thinking about Dave and  _ not _ paying too much or any mind to Xefros sitting next to him, either, tragically sober and internally brooding, glancing out the window with big, doe-like, sorrowful eyes. 

The scene next to Karkat bothered him so much that he literally couldn’t keep quiet about it, not with just enough alcohol in his system to get confrontational over it. Not only over this, but probably over anything, at this point. He suspected to have been confrontational by nature, but that thought was overshadowed by the depressive dejection in Xefros’ face.

“Hey, Xefros. Hey.” He poked his friend on the arm, getting those doleful eyes to fix themselves on him instead. “I know life is utter shit right now, so have a drink and don’t think about it, alright? Here.” He offered his own unfinished glass to Xefros but the guy just shook his head at it. 

“No, I can’t.” 

“Why not? You can’t do shit about Dammek, so just try and have a good time like the rest of us.” 

Xefros’ eyes cast down at the table and their usual shine was quickly replaced by a watery glint instead. Shit. 

“Hey, hey, c’mon. No crying, man, you’ve done enough of that tonight. Try to have fun, yeah? Just because he’s not around doesn’t mean you can’t have a good time. Here, seriously, have some of this juice.” 

“No, I…” 

“Xefros.” 

Xefros closed his eyes and put a hand up to his face, the heel of his palm just over an eye, rubbing on it. His shoulders sagged and he looked absolutely miserable, battered and broken and beaten down to a pulp. The dark circles that usually adorned the underside of his eyes had deepened something awful in the span of two and a half hours. 

“Shit, Xefros, he’s  _ fine,  _ dude. Don’t worry about it.”

“You saying that doesn’t change a thing.” Xefros choked out through a lump in his throat, getting caught in a sob afterwards. “I can’t think of anything else.” 

“Yes, you can. He’s not your entire life.” 

“Yes, he is.” 

“No, Xefros, dammit, he’s the worst thing about you.” 

Xefros shook his head in denial. Fuck, he really didn’t want to go down this path and broach this specific subject, not tonight and not ever, but he had had some stuff brewing in the back of his mind about this shit for a good while now that bothered him everytime he touched it, and the alcohol percentage in his bloodstream didn’t really help him keep his mouth shut about it, either. He was already itching to overshare, to get this out of himself, to have Xefros hear it in the first place, because he, more than anybody else,  _ needed _ to hear it. He needed to hear what Karkat had to say, and Dammek wasn’t around to influence him into disregarding everything single word, or silencing Karkat in any way, shape or form, which made this the perfect opportunity, and Karkat seized it with an iron fist. He had no business getting involved in a relationship that wasn’t his own at all, he knew this very clearly, but that didn’t stop him from going all out on the rant.

“Look, Xefros, what you have is an obsession. It’s the sort of sick devotion that drains the life out of you, and makes you lose sight of your own self, alright? You look up to him so much that you’re putting him on a pedestal, you’re dehumanizing him, you’re making him out to be a sort of holy figure instead of a fucked up troll with a superiority complex, which is what he is. He’s a fucking idiot, but you don’t see that. The way you keep putting him above you gives him a chance to take advantage of you, and I know he’s taken it. I know he takes it over and over, all the time, but you can’t let him do that! You can’t let him break you. You have to value yourself and know that some things are not okay, that some lines shouldn’t be crossed, and that moirails don’t sleep together. They don’t kiss the way he kissed you earlier. He’s supposed to be your best friend, not the star of your wet dreams.” 

Xefros scowled; he looked fucking pissed, but Karkat didn’t honestly give a shit about that. Not currently, anyway. He was livid. They were both livid, suddenly.

“He’s not doing anything I don’t want him to.” 

“That’s because you force yourself to want everything that he does. Just look outside of it for a second; the way he controls you, do you think that’s normal? He doesn’t ask, he gives orders. He doesn’t ask, he just takes it anyway.” 

“You don’t know the first thing about us, Karkat. You think he’s like Gamzee, but he’s not, and I’m not you. I know you’re trying to help me, and this comes from a place of love, but listen to me. Just listen to me. I’m happy with him; I’m  _ happiest _ with him. He’s important to me. He makes things better; he’s insightful and trustworthy and always, always there and I owe him everything. I owe him my whole life, so don’t come to me trying to school me on the subject I know best.” 

He sincerely doubted that, but decided to gloss over it for now. Whether or not Xefros really knew the troll who filled more than just one of his quadrants wasn’t the point of tonight’s rant. Maybe the next one, though. He’d have to think about that.

“Alright, sorry, I just care about you. I’m worried about you. Shit, you’re my friend and I want you to be safe.”

Xefros rubbed at his eyes, this time less angry and more tired. 

“I’m sorry, I know, and I appreciate you for that, I just… I’m scared. I’m really scared.” 

“For him? He’ll be fine. They’ll just dope him for a couple of hours, he’s fine.” 

“I know.” Xefros leaned back onto his seat, forlorn eyes cast out the window by his side. The desolation from before had come back in full. “I miss him is all, I guess.” 

“Xefros, it hasn’t even been three hours.” 

Xefros shut his eyes, as if concealing an eye roll. Alright, so that might’ve been the wrong thing to say. Karkat acknowledged that fully and completely, a second too late to take it back. 

“You don’t know what it’s like.” Xefros said, voice low, almost mournful. Karkat frowned. 

“What, missing a person? I know what that’s like.” 

“No.” Xefros shook his head again, turning toward the window in a very obvious attempt at killing this conversation. “Nevermind.” 

Karkat didn’t revive it. He was drunk, not stupid. Glancing back over to his cup, he took it, knocked the rest of the drink back, and tried very hard not to feel bad about everything for the rest of the night.

Dozens of empty water bottles later, the twenty or so trolls stumbled back to the building, talking loudly and laughing like maniacs, holding onto each other’s arms for balance and zig-zagging down the sidewalk. It was a hilarious sight that had Karkat chuckling despite himself. This drunk, he didn’t feel cold. His hoodie was unzipped and wind hit his face, ruffled his hair, made him shiver without him feeling any of it, or even fully realizing it. It seemed as if the doped one had been him instead of Dammek or Gamzee and he couldn’t feel his nose, couldn’t feel his fingers, couldn’t feel any pain inside, only the warm buzz of the alcohol coursing through him. It was great; he was laughing at nothing and enjoying the company of his detestable friends and he almost even forgot about Dave entirely, almost forgot his broken heart, almost forgot that Dave probably lay in pain from a broken arm in the exact same moment that he happily strolled down the street, grinning wide and dumb like he had never done before. 

Dave. He shook his head, loosely recalling the events from earlier, how jealous Dave had been of Dammek, probably. It had seemed like, at least. That proved that he cared, right? The simple fact that he had wanted to speak with Karkat at all must’ve said something, too. It must’ve meant something. What was he going to say, anyway? What did he want to talk about? If Dave had had pulled him aside to ask for the millionth time what was it that he had done to ruin their night, as if he had been to blame in the first place, Karkat would’ve flipped a shit. He’d have thrown a fit and made a scene in the middle of campus to anyone watching. Dave was so fast to blame himself for everything; it seemed he loved to play the self-sacrificing hero who took the hit and spared others of it, as if Karkat hadn’t willfully chosen the role of villain this time around. He clicked his tongue, kicked at the ground. Dave was fucking stupid. He was stupid, and probably hurt, and… Hadn’t he lost a friend like this before? Sleeping with a guy, rejecting a girl to the dance. Karkat fleetingly remembered Dave’s sob story about how he didn’t have any friends because of his dashing good looks and the notches in his belt or something like that. Back in that Subway, their whatever thing during lunch. Yeah. He shook the mostly full water bottle in his hand, something like that. 

In the building, the trolls dispersed; Sollux went up to the penthouse, Aradia called it a night, and Xefros went straight for the stairway leading down. Karkat grabbed his shirt and yanked him back. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

Xefros pushed him off. 

“I’m visiting him.” 

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?” 

“You’re not allowed in there. They won’t let you in.” 

“Guess I’ll put that to the test.” 

Xefros went down. Despite every voice in his head telling him  _ not _ to follow, and screaming that he was a fucking idiot for disregarding that in the first place, Karkat towed close behind, cringing at himself, at his own stupidity. Maybe he and Dave weren’t so different, after all. Maybe Dave really had been right about that. Xefros gave him a questioning look, so he rolled his eyes in response. 

“If you’re getting in trouble, I’m coming with you.” 

Maybe they were both self-sacrificing idiot heroes.

Rehab was terrifying. It looked exactly like a portion of a working hospital that had been ripped out of it and put under this building instead, with rows of narrow hallways lined by closed doors on each side, white tiles on the floors and white paint on the walls. The bright overhead lamps reflected off of the excessive whiteness all around and almost hurt the eye. All they could see were conjoining hallways that didn’t seem to have an end, or reach a bottom, no matter how far down into the basement they went. This felt fruitless, like unknowingly being stuck in a maze that didn’t have an exit. 

“Hello, boys.” A disembodied voice reached them out of nowhere, so suddenly and sounding so ethereal that both of them screamed in response to it, their shouting reverberating off of the walls and traveling down the narrow hallways. Quickly turning around toward the source of it, they saw it belonged to a thin, tall troll under long, white robes and a medical cap. The Nurse, smiling dubiously down at the both of them, making their hairs stand. “How may I help you tonight?” 

“Ah, we, I want, I’m here to see the tetrarch. Uh, Dammek; I’m here to see Dammek.” 

“The little copper-blood, admitted just a few hours ago?” 

“Yes, him. Please.” 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come back during visiting hours for that.” 

Xefros grabbed at his shirt, fisting where it covered his chest. 

“Please, just for a second, please, I’ll be a second.” 

“I’m afraid--”

_ “Please!”  _ It wasn’t a shout, just a decibel short of it, but that, in these hallways, sounded louder and more desperate than it really was, or, maybe, just desperate enough. Xefros didn’t look to have been on the verge of tears, though his strained voice sounded like it. 

The Nurse raised her brows in response to that, otherwise entirely impassive. 

“You’ll be a second.” She echoed back to them, her piercing greens glancing from one troll to the other, straight in the eye. 

Xefros nodded, sheepish, still tugging at his own heart. Karkat couldn’t even move, shaken to the core, frightened beyond belief.

She motioned at them with a hand. 

“Follow me.” 

The three of them crossed two hallways and took a series of turns that had Karkat lost and confused at the first few of them, very unsure of how to actually leave this place since every wall looked the same and every door was closed and his vision swam and swayed with every swing of the head. They reached a room with an open door where Dammek lay inside, sleeping on a bed, but none of them went in right away. The Nurse waited by the arch, disinterested to approach the sleeping troll, while Karkat stood around at her side, useless and awkward and not feeling right to go in. Only Xefros did, with careful steps, making no sound; he stopped by the bedside. From here, Karkat couldn’t see his face, only the back of his head, but could vividly imagine the worry in his reds and the crease in his brow. Xefros touched Dammek’s hand, grabbed it with his own, ran a thumb across the back of it. 

“You’re Vantas, aren’t you?” The Nurse spoke in a tone so low, as not to disturb the moment, that it hinted at a whisper, but didn’t really feel like one. It cooled Karkat’s blood instead. 

“Yes.” Breathless, escaped from the bottom of his lungs. He had no idea how she knew that.

“What makes you believe alcohol is allowed in my facility?” 

His heart skipped a beat; the bottle in his hand singed. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“Inebriated trolls are very welcome here, dear Vantas. Are you to stay?” 

He shut his mouth, eyes wide, pulse erratic. If there could’ve been a worse time to do anything drunk, it must’ve been this. 

“I wasn’t planning on it.” 

The Nurse’s smile was very, very off-putting. 

“Be careful.” She said, simply, quizzically, and turned away to glance back at Xefros. 

Karkat had no idea what to make of that. 

“Your second is up, Tritoh. Please cease all touching and join us outside.” 

Tritoh? Of course she knew that, too.

Xefros’ shoulders tensed, but he obeyed her without a word. His hand slipped away from Dammek’s, he took a step back, and turned around to leave. There were far less emotions on his face than Karkat honestly thought that there would’ve been on the way out; his eyes were overcast and he almost looked dead. Xefros regrouped and they both followed the Nurse through the maze-like hallways all the way to the double exit doors. 

Karkat felt immensely glad to be outside again, as if he had just escaped something terrible, just walked out of a closing bear trap. He couldn’t explain it, but the freedom filled his lungs with air and the mere thought of turning back around made his skin crawl. He was free, free from the jaws of a monster, free from the bonds of the system, and the water bottle in his hand was proof of that. He waved it around, bouncing on his feet, feeling electric all of a sudden. It must’ve been the adrenaline. 

Xefros had started climbing up to the second floor, but at his sight, stopped, and frowned. 

“What?” 

“Let’s go somewhere.” He said, excited, too numb to feel self-conscious about acting like a little grub. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Xefros almost looked disgusted. 

“I’m going to bed.” 

“Really? Like, are you sure? I mean, I think we should steal a bus.” 

“What, are you high? It’s almost nine.” 

“So what? We could steal a bus in five minutes.” 

Xefros rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever, knock yourself out.” 

“Here.” He tossed the bottle to Xefros, whose perfect reflexes caught it in both hands. “Have some fun while I burn this town down.” 

“Don’t get caught in the fire.” 

He wouldn’t. He ran out of the building, past the gates, feeling the chilly breeze on his face, wind ruffle his hair. Free! He was free, and bouncing around, letting himself feel good for once, just for fucking once. He breathed in deep, held the air in his lungs, and exhaled, grinning afterwards, carefree and warm and not feeling his fingertips, his cheeks, his entire face. 

“Hey, get in.” The security guard shouted at him from behind the gates, starting to close them. “Curfew is about to be up.” 

“Yeah?” He shouted back, walking backwards into the street, two middle fingers up. “Come get me, then.” 

The security guard rolled his eyes. It wasn’t his job to run after runaway trolls, just to look after the building, make sure no one was climbing over the fences or jumping out of the windows, the balconies, whatever. If he chased every escapee, the rest would just follow the first and cause an uprising. The man shook his head, the gate locked. Karkat was out. 

He turned and ran. Lights passed him by fast; street lights, lamp posts, neon lights, businesses, houses, buildings, trees, fences; he just kept running, straight past it all, feet stepping weird on their soles and legs burning, but not a lot, just some, a dull ache, nothing that he hadn’t felt before. He was fine. His lungs had trouble breathing, his throat had trouble drawing in air, and he couldn’t see right, the world was shaky, his body trembled, he felt so warm. In the dying breaths of September, he felt so fucking warm, he was sweating, his arms were shaking, but he didn’t stop. He ran until his legs couldn’t carry him anymore, until the world had turned into a blur surrounded by cars honking and people getting out of the way. There weren’t many, not that he could really see, not that he could see any fucking thing until he had met with some stairs by accident, where had they even come from?, his feet found a few steps, skipping most of them from inertia, but slipping anyway, and sending him tumbling down the remaining ones very ungracefully, landing onto his back. He saw the ceiling, dark, far away and covered in dirty tiles. 

He rubbed a hand on his face. Logically, this was supposed to hurt, but he didn’t feel anything right now. He got up, there were a few people staring, he was in the subway. God, fuck, he was in the subway. He groaned, dragging at his face. People stared more intensely now, with phones in their hands, looking scared. If they called the police, he would be dead. It hit him in a wave, it had him shoving the hood of his jacket over his head, covering his horns, and his feet walking again, walking weird, making him stumble and sway but not that he cared. He zipped up the jacket, walked faster now, past the ticket booth and straight over to the gates. He didn’t have a ticket, or time to get one, or money to spend, or permission to be in the Houston subway system, so he just jumped over the gates, whatever. Whatever. A closeby train was about to leave, he noticed that in a split second, that the doors were still open, so he ran to it, fast, just about made it in, slipping past the doors as they closed. He landed on his feet this time around, bending his knees for balance, grabbing onto the closest handhold for support. The train unhinged, no passengers inside. They were moving.

He had no idea where to go from here but felt strangely calm about it. As the train zipped past tiled walls and dark tunnels, he sat down on a bench, his mind drawing a blank and his heart constantly making for his throat, threatening to suffocate him. He had been panting and huffing and gasping this entire time without realizing it. Something was terribly wrong but he couldn’t feel it. 

There was blood on his hand. His hands started trembling when he saw it, a bright red spot on the back of dark, shaky gray. He breathed faster now, faster, faster, hyperventilated and choked. Where had it come from? It wasn’t oozing from his hand, there was no gash that he could see, it had dripped down from, from, his face? He touched his cheek, his fingers were cold. Drawing them back to look again, more blood. Fuck. Fuck! He wiped his face on the back of his arm, on the sleeve of his hoodie, all of his face, he didn’t know where it was pouring from, but he hoped that it’d stop. The train slowed, the train stopped. It was another station, he didn’t know where they were now or where they were going to. On the panel above the opening doors, a light blinked, they were close to downtown. Three more stops and they’d be in Dave’s neighborhood.

Oh. Dave. He sat back, the train remained still. A cold gust of wind drafted in from the open doors but nobody came in with it, nobody was on the platform outside. He crossed his arms, could feel the blood on his face cool with the wind, the ache in his muscles start to get worse, the throbbing in his legs take the forefront. He was an idiot. This would hurt so much in the morning. 

Fifteen minutes later, he was leaving the train and walking out of the platform, pushing through the pain in his body to make Dave’s life a living Hell. That, of course, if he didn’t happen to get caught on the way and beaten up beyond recognition. There were some people coming and going in the station, mostly talking within themselves, dozens of teenagers or young adults going out to a party or other, in painted faces and flower crowns. They didn’t stare too much, barely even noticed the hooded figure hugging the wall, walking fast, feeling like shit. Finally feeling something, which probably meant that he was slowly sobering up and finding reason again. He’d better reach Dave’s apartment before his better judgement took over. 

Up on the street, downtown buzzed with night life. Humans laughed in groups and drank from beer bottles, bars were loud and filled up to the brim, clubs bled muffled music through the back door, dresses shone under the lamp posts, high heels echoed on the sidewalks, and cigarette smoke dispersed through the air. Karkat watched with wide eyes what he had only seen in movies before, feeling his chest flutter with excitement, his skin shiver with the mesmerizing allure of it all. He was fascinated by this world in which he wasn’t welcome, his eyes glinted with it, his mouth nearly gaped. He desperately wished that he could be a part of it, his chest ached with the reality of his situation. 

His eyes dropped to a police car on patrol a couple of blocks ahead, intensifying that very pain with a twist. His throat closed and he quickly slipped into the first alleyway to his right, swallowed by darkness, protected by anonymity. It hurt. He kept on walking until reaching the other side, coming across Dave’s building just in the next block over. He walked with a sort of dejection weighing down his shoulders. 

In the elevator, he checked his reflection. The blood had come from a small cut on his temple, which wasn’t at all bad, and shouldn’t have been cause for concern. He had done a shitty job at cleaning up his face, though, blood smeared all over, so he took a second to wipe that off on the cuffs of his jacket before turning and pushing the penthouse button. This was going to be a shit show, he knew it; being covered in his own blood for it was only fitting. 

He pushed the doorbell and waited, heart in his throat, dread in his veins. The effects of sobriety had slowly begun to show and he wasn’t sure that he liked it much, not with how bad his blood pulsed in his ears, anxiety popping a hole in his lungs, making him regret this already. It was a terrible idea, yes, Dave was just going to outright punch him in the face, probably, and the shove from earlier today started to burn again. He touched his chest with vivid memories flashing before his eyes. That had been heartbreaking; Dave had never pushed him that way. There was a sound behind the door and his pulse skipped a beat at it. 

Dave showed not long after, but instead of letting him in, simply joined him in the hallway, pulling the safe-like door closed behind himself. He looked terrible; there were two big bruises on his face, one of them had a cut on top of it, even, and he wore a different pair of shades tonight, pointy, that covered more of his cheeks than the aviators did. Karkat couldn’t wrap his head around that, but didn’t try very hard to, either, too busy scrutinizing the purple coloring the white of Dave’s skin, one high on his cheekbone, and one on his jaw, both on the same side. His bottom lip was split and there was a slight scowl forming behind the rim of the strange, pointy shades. 

“What are you doing here?” Dave asked, his low and smooth voice like silk to the ear, like honey on the tongue. Karkat loved it, how soft it was, even if the question ached a bit. The tone,  _ that _ tone, kind and sweet and used only with Karkat was back and he felt it, he felt it all over his chest, warming him up completely, putting color on his face. He wanted to kiss him, he wanted to kiss Dave, wanted that voice on his lips and the cut on his face. 

“I missed you.” It was so true that it almost hurt. He could barely even breathe. 

Dave’s scowl deepened. 

“What happened to you? You look like shit.” The pronunciation of every word was perfect, the minute movement of his lips was perfect, everything about him was so beautifully perfect that Karkat couldn’t fucking stand it. God, he had missed this. His voice, his face, him. 

“I fell down some stairs, it doesn’t matter. You look worse.” 

Dave didn’t respond to that, only turned his face a degree to the side, almost imperceptible. Was he bashful? What was this? Karkat couldn’t fucking read him with the shades on and it was infuriating. He ran a hand through his own hair, noticing in passing just how dirty and greasy it was. Great, must’ve been from all the running, the sweating, the falling on the ground that he had done all day, if he had to guess. He covered his eyes, sighed. Looking at his own reflection again, he watched his own shoulders drop. If anything, he owed a heartfelt apology for getting Dave involved into all of this. 

“I’m sorry about earlier, Dave. I’m… God, I’m sorry for letting Dammek touch you. He’s destructive, overflowing with pent-up anger, and so unhealthy, so unhealthy, he, did he, did he break your arm?”

Dave touched it absently. 

“No, it just sprained. Look, Karkat, I don’t…” Dave trailed off, shaking his head the tiniest bit. “What do you want?” He sounded tired, suddenly. Exhausted, actually. Was Karkat draining him? His heart sunk, it cut straight through the rest of him. This had officially been a bad idea, like most things that he did around and concerning Dave. He swallowed around a lump, suddenly untoward. 

“I’m, I’m just apologizing, I, I…” Strained. Fuck. “I’m sorry for being such a piece of shit, I just, I want us to be alright. Please, I want us to be okay.” If there even still was an  _ us _ at all, which--.

“Us?” 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, fuck, there it was. There it was. His jaw set, Dave’s face started to swim and his eyes burned. He couldn’t breathe. Of course he had fucked this up, too; it was childish to even have believed otherwise, even if for a millisecond. He tried to swallow, it hurt. His lips trembled, he couldn’t speak. Everything ached and he hated himself. 

“I thought…” Dave paused, brows deeply knit together. “Are we still a thing?” 

The tears dripped, tepid, trailing down his face. His heart ached something insufferable.

“I don’t know. Are we?” His throat was sore but the words managed past the lump somehow. 

Dave parted his lips to answer but speech failed him for the first second, instead arose some color to his face, across his nose, only partially hidden by the larger shades that covered it. 

“I hope so.” Was the answer, small and shy, but just the right words to make Karkat breathe again. “You didn’t look like you wanted to talk earlier and I thought, well, I just, I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought. Sorry for hitting your friend in the face, I guess, is all I really have to say.” 

He wiped at his face, hoping this side of the cuffs didn’t have any dried blood on them to color it. Breathing in, breathing out, he was fine. It was all fine. They weren’t over, this shit show still wasn’t over. He could prolong Dave’s nightmare for a while and how wonderful that was. He barely even registered the words that had followed the first sentence, pretty much ignoring them completely. 

“Why are you wearing that?” He asked, sniffling, coming down. The lump was dissolving. 

“What?”

“Those weird sunglasses.” 

“Oh, Bro’s fixing the Ray-Bans, and we have a bunch of these laying around, so. I took one.” 

He nodded, slowly, an image of Dammek’s fist coming to mind. Just how strong was that guy to have fucked Dave up so spectacularly to the point of destroying his shades? Sure, Dave had triggered his friend’s wrath by accidentally pushing Xefros into the dirt, but still. He wondered if Dammek, lying unconscious on that hospital bed, looked to have been in just as bad of a shape as Dave was right now, but any attempt at recalling the details of his face were unsuccessful, hazy at best. He had been really drunk and the Nurse had scared his attention away. 

In a fleeting thought, he realized that Dave could’ve died today. When he had pushed Xefros down, and Dammek had drawn his claws, probably ripping the gash on Dave’s face then, maybe even missing a swipe aimed at his throat. It would’ve been too easy. Dammek had been punching before, at the start, clearly just meaning to make Dave hurt, not get him killed, but that hadn’t lasted long, and how quickly he had forgone the solemnity of Dave’s life, how quickly he would’ve taken it, without thinking twice, just at the first little reason to have done it, almost as if he had been waiting for an opportunity. Karkat could feel himself growing pale. Never again would he let Dave  _ near _ Dammek, because, shit, if it hadn’t been for Sollux, Dave would’ve been lying in a coffin right now. He would’ve been gone forever. Karkat touched his own chest in response to the sudden twinge that cut through it. 

Dammek, of course, had that happened, would’ve seen a needle and the bottom of a ditch. Highbloods got unmarked graves, but, despite how highly Dammek thought of himself, all he’d have gotten would’ve been an uncaring ditch. Xefros would’ve been devastated. Karkat feared to imagine what Xefros would’ve been capable to do in a scenario like that. 

He stepped closer, heart painfully poked through, but he needed to do this, despite how much of an awful idea it probably was, as all the others had been. He wasn’t sober enough yet to have his inhibitions actually stop him from touching Dave at the moment, however much they screamed against it, but ignoring them was particularly easy, and had him closing the space between the two of them with both arms around Dave’s waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck, and eyes closed. Dave hugged him back so swiftly that it was almost as if he worked on auto-pilot, pulling Karkat against his chest, burying his nose in Karkat’s hair, giving him life and air and that warm feeling in his heart, in his body, peace of mind. 

Dave was alive and here and with him. There was nothing,  _ nothing _ better than this. 

“I miss you.” He confessed again, voice small and hidden on the collar of Dave’s shirt. “I’m so afraid of losing you.” 

“Really?” Dave’s tone hinted at incredulity, legitimately doubting the veracity of Karkat’s statement, from the sounds of it. That surprised him more than anything, and made him pull back from the embrace a bit, the enough to look up into Dave’s shades, watch his own perplexity reflected back at himself. 

“Yes.” He answered, slowly, with conviction.  _ “Yes.” _ He repeated, firm and truthful and trying to get Dave to see that. Dave’s brows remained delicately furrowed in response to it. 

It was more shocking to realize that Dave didn’t believe him than it hurt to know that. He was struck dumb with disbelief. 

“I  _ mean _ it.” He clarified, the notion of having to do so absolutely ridiculous to him, but apparently necessary. Highly necessary. Where had Dave gotten the idea that he didn’t care? 

“Alright, well, then…” Dave shrugged. “Act like it.” 

Oh. Ouch. Yikes, God, that smarted. He ceased the hug and took a step back, incredibly hurt from that, all of a sudden. Yes, this was his own fault, and, yes, he was upset at his own damn self, but it hurt nonetheless; it had him clutching at his own chest, at the black shirt that covered it, in an absent attempt at remedying the sting. He blushed, embarrassed, abruptly recalling memories of the last three days that strongly suggested at him being disinterested to pursue this sort of involvement any further and feeling acutely regretful for it. Regretful  _ now _ that he was drunk enough to admit to himself what he really wanted, drunk enough to lie to himself and play pretend that he could have it. 

He had ran from Dave for three days straight; no wonder the guy had thought that they were over.

“I’m sorry for not letting that show, I’ve just been in a really bad place lately. I was, you know, confused, because, well, I thought you only wanted, you know, what you already got.” 

“For real? Where have you been this whole time, when I told you over and over that I’m not here just to sleep with you? God, Karkat, fucking listen to me for once.” 

“I heard that, I just didn’t believe it!” 

“Why? What made you think I was lying?” 

He shook his head. There was no explaining to a human that he inherently didn’t trust humans, especially not a white one, good-looking enough to never want a thing to do with him, who was excruciatingly nice to him, perfect all around, a character from a fairy tale, the knight of a fantasy novel. He ran a hand down his own face. Dave was so perfect that it almost depressed him. 

“Nothing; you didn’t do anything, okay? I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do better.” 

He was over this, and so tired, too. His body hurt as if it had been crushed under a road roller.

“No, Karkat, look at me.” Dave took his face in both hands, palms pressed to each side of his jaw, making him focus on the shades and absolutely despise them. He wanted to see them broken under his heel for always forcing him to see himself instead of being able to accurately read Dave. It defeated the purpose of looking into Dave’s face at all. “You’re not talking to me. You’re being evasive again.” 

He continued on being evasive, very consciously making that choice when pushing forward to meet Dave’s mouth with his own. His brows furrowed and he inwardly cringed in anticipation to the shove that he surely was about to get, another one to stack over the first, for so brazenly disregarding every single one of Dave’s words, now and always, for being so disgustingly presumptuous. He grabbed Dave’s face and kissed him harder, heart in his throat, afraid to be pushed off. 

Dave kissing him back was unexpected, surprising, and very much welcome. The hands that held his jaw softened, thumbs swiped across his cheeks, put even more color on them, made him breathe and his heart swell. He relaxed, his shoulders dropped, and the desperation from a moment before melted into something else, something reassuring that spread in his chest and had him kissing sweetly, calmer, inspirited. 

They parted, but remained an inch from one another, Dave probably scrutinizing his face while he had nothing but his own reflection to look at, besides the bruises on white skin. One of them, high on Dave’s cheekbone with a cut on it, was almost entirely covered by the sunglasses. It pissed him off; he wanted to see it. He brought a hand to push the shades up Dave’s forehead, but, as soon as he touched it, Dave took his hand and stepped back from him. Embrace broken, kiss over. He felt himself frown. 

“Are you coming in?” Dave asked, cool, smooth, and showing no emotion whatsoever. He still used that nice, sweet tone with Karkat, though, which was the only thing that kept him from outright having an identity crisis in this exact second.

“Sure.” 

Even if he had a single other place to spend tonight at, he’d much rather stay here instead.

Dave pushed the door open and walked in, bringing him along by the hand, the sound of the television the first thing that reached him. The living room looked exactly the same as last time, except now it had a person on the couch, a head of blonde hair the only thing that Karkat could see from behind it. Shit, the brother. His heart immediately stopped, his fingers dug into the back of Dave’s hand. 

“Bro, this is Karkat.” 

The brother turned around, rested an elbow atop the backrest of the couch to either show off his bulging muscles or to hoist himself up and see Karkat better, and raised a brow. Behind the shades, a perfect copy of the pair currently perched on Dave’s nose ridge, Karkat could only assume rested an unimpressed, maybe even kind of apoplectic face. Besides gorgeously styled up hair and some light stubble, Karkat couldn’t see much, still a little distracted, and deeply intimidated, by the size of that one bicep that greeted him. 

The brother gave him a single nod. 

“What’s up, man?” 

His eyes widened, and, for a second, he forgot how to speak. This guy was really white and he was in shock about that. Literally, physically speaking, his face was so white, his arm was so white, it looked as if he had never been under sunlight in all of his life. He almost made Karkat question Dave’s whiteness with how pale and pink and nearly translucent he was. It was almost scary. Karkat was so used to seeing dark gray and a tanner shade of white, the one on Dave’s body, that the sight before him really put him off. Dave’s brother looked like those Senators on the TV and the human professors assigned to the human classes in campus. Oh, maybe he was just an actual white person. Maybe Dave really wasn’t white. Was that right? He stood in place, speechless. Apparently, he couldn’t discern a difference between a tan and a non-white human. Given his lack of contact with humanity, he wasn’t very surprised at himself at all.

Dave cleared his throat. 

“Uh, it’s okay if he spends the night, right?” 

“Yeah, sure. Any friend of yours is welcome here.” 

“Cool.” Dave nodded, taking a step toward the hallway and tugging Karkat by the hand to follow. “Thanks, Bro. We’ll chill in my room.” 

The brother nodded again and turned around to face his television show, whatever it was that was on, falling to the extreme back of Karkat’s attention. Was Dave white or wasn’t he?

They walked into Dave’s bedroom, door closed behind the two of them, not locked, simply closed. Chill, Dave had said. They were only going to chill here. Karkat took his shoes off, shrugged the jacket from his shoulders and let it drop to the ground, dirty and sweaty and belonging with the rest of Dave’s laundry. Dave sat on the edge of the mattress and leisurely watched him. 

“How did you get here? I thought there was a curfew thing on weekdays.” 

“There is, but--” He had run away, he wanted to say, but cut himself short. This wouldn’t have been fruitful and he wasn’t that drunk anymore. “It’s at ten on Fridays.” A big, fat, fucking lie. It was at ten on weekends. “I just took the bus.” No. He almost hit himself square on the nose. 

Dave nodded in understanding, completely oblivious to the lies, trusting him so blindly that it made him feel bad. It made him feel like a terrible person. He took the seat next to Dave, close enough so their thighs touched, and planted a big kiss on his cheek, as if that’d change anything or make him feel any better. It was a pity act more than anything, which probably made it worse. 

Dave smiled at him nonetheless. 

“Thanks for being patient with me.” He whispered. 

“You’re lucky I like you.” Dave joked, but he was actually, literally so right. Karkat really was incredibly lucky to have a human on his side, otherwise, where would he even have been at a time like this? Right now? Probably bleeding on the backseat of a police car. 

“I know.” His tone was cheeky, accompanied by a joking smirk that he pressed against Dave’s lips. Being able to do that without getting shoved or angering anyone was empowering. He had defied the system, ran the streets after curfew, taken the subway, and sheltered himself at a human’s apartment, all in one night, to no negative repercussions. He was unstoppable. He could’ve stolen a bus and taken on the world before sunrise. 

Dave let him take a shower and actually shared the bed with him this time. 


	8. Aftercare and consequences

Pain woke him up in the middle of the night; an intense soreness deep within the muscles of his thighs, a twinge on his forehead, and a dull ache resounding throughout the entirety of his left side. He groaned, turned to lay on his back, and opened his eyes. The room was dark, loose shapes and patterns moved with the shadows, dancing on the ceiling every time a car drove past, disturbed the lamp posts outside, disarranged the perfect order of the night. He touched his forehead, the cut was dry, hidden under his messy bangs, concealed from Dave’s eyes yesterday. Or, a few hours ago. He had lied so much to him that it still gnawed at him, it still upset him at himself and his own inability to set the record straight. He was going to lose Dave with how indecisive, confused and deceitful he was, he knew it already, could foresee it very, very clearly and wished he were able to stop himself. He got up, left the bed, felt the muscles on his entire body scream. He winced. If waking up feeling bad for having lied meant anything, then he was far too dumb to figure it out. 

The mirror cabinet in the bathroom was stacked full of painkillers, gauze, ointments, bandages, plasters, and everything else one could find in five first-aid kits. It was probably too much for a home of two, but Karkat didn’t know what the brother was into; if it was some hobby that had him hurt frequently, or if he was simply a hypochondriac, so he had no way of judging it. The guy could’ve been an MMA enthusiast or member of a Houston gang, for all he knew. With that height and those muscles, he could’ve been anything that he wanted to be. 

On the way out of the bathroom, Karkat noticed that the living room light had been turned on, and, glancing at the front door, he saw the brother walk in, shades perfectly squared at his face. He paled. The door closed soundlessly behind the guy as he stepped further in, toward the hallway, in Karkat’s immediate direction. He could feel his heartbeats quickening and his pulse becoming erratic while watching the brother stop just a few feet away from him, technically still in the living room, staring straight through him. Never before had he been so glad to have had a pair of shades in between himself and someone else’s face. This was frightening.

“Karkat.” The brother said, voice low and smooth, but far colder than Dave’s, showing no emotion whatsoever, almost resembling a robot’s. The guy nodded at the couch. “Care to see me for a minute?” 

He felt small, smaller than he had ever felt in his entire life in the mere presence of this man. It might’ve been the height, the whiteness, the complete lack of compassion in his tone, or the imposing danger that this guy’s entire demeanor openly displayed. He wasn’t someone to fuck with, and that was obvious. Karkat followed him into the living room, where a strange machine stood by the coffee table and Dave’s aviators lay next to the quiet television. The sound had been turned way down on some episode of whatever show starring white, fat Americans in open concept kitchens. The brother moved over to the machine and reached into his pockets, retrieved a small Ziploc bag full of gears. Wasn’t he a tinkerer of sorts, an electric engineer, or an auto-repair worker? Karkat fleetingly remembered thinking this last time that he had visited. The brother pinched out a gear or two from the small bag and hovered next to the machine, as if inspecting it. Karkat very awkwardly took a seat on the couch, uninvited, even if it had felt like the right thing to have done. Suddenly, he wondered if he could’ve done that at all. 

“Fatigue, exhaustion, muscle strain. You’re the reason Dave got home beat up today, aren’t you?” 

His blood cooled, his eyes doubled. Oh, fuck, he was being interrogated. The brother continued to leisurely inspect the machine, speaking casually, voice cold as ice and posture relaxed, fully aware that Karkat posed no threat at all, and that he had total control over the situation. Karkat swallowed with difficulty, shivering, watching him pull up an office chair to the machine and sit down on it, shades finally moving up to stare at him. 

“I believe you can tell me what happened.” 

He shuddered, suddenly cold, as if the perfect impassiveness of this guy’s face had single-handedly dropped the temperature in the room down twenty degrees. 

“We… Dave just had an altercation with one of my friends. It wasn’t really a big deal.” 

The brother nodded, slowly, minutely, almost imperceptible to the eye. He took a gear and reached into the machine with his left hand. 

“An altercation.” The guy repeated, so emotionless that Karkat couldn’t tell what he meant by that. Was he pissed or not? Probably yes; he might’ve just been proficient at keeping that a secret. “I know that both of us are acutely aware of the fact that Dave isn’t very confrontational, so you understand my perplexity in regards to this ‘altercation’ of yours.” With his right hand, he quoted the air. Karkat’s heart jumped in his throat. “Are you telling me that Dave was in a fight?” 

“He, well. Yeah, he was, but it wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t as bad as you think. I mean, I don’t know what he said to you, but he was really just doing the right thing.” 

“Did he start it?” 

“Uh, yeah, but my friend pushed him to do it. He obviously wouldn’t have otherwise.” 

The brother nodded in silence, removing his hand from the machine and going through the rest of the gears in the little bag. He furrowed his brows just the tiniest bit through his concentration, speaking to Karkat but directed toward the machine.

“Have you seen a scar that he has on his side, just under his ribs?” 

His heart skipped a beat. No, that one night had been too dark to see anything but the shine of Dave’s bright eyes. He shook his head. Over the rim of the glasses, the guy glanced up at him, face still pointed down at the machine. From this angle, two orange orbs locked with two wide, red ones. 

“Then ask him about it sometime.” 

The brother looked back down at his work, twisted his arm a bit, and removed his hand from the bowels of the machine. No gears in his palms, just what looked to have been motor oil coloring his translucent skin. Karkat frowned. Did this man have a name? 

“What can I call you?” He asked, pushing through the dread that filled his stomach and the fear that coursed his veins. Being around this man, in the dead of night, while he repaired a strange-looking machine whose purpose was unknown felt as if the excerpt of a dystopian book. Karkat might as well have been discussing the safety of a human with the replicant that had sworn oath to protect him, since everything that regarded his brother was more alike a machine than mannerisms of an actual human. 

The brother took a piece of dirty cloth from atop the coffee table and wiped his hand with it. 

“My name’s Dirk.” He answered, keeping the shades only at about a three quarter angle in Karkat’s direction. “But I wouldn’t correct you if you called me Bro, either.” 

He nodded, unsure just how deep he should read into that, because maybe Dirk meant it as a general term, like dude or man, but he might also have meant it in a more fraternal way, kind of how Dave used the word, unless that was an impossible nickname that people in general addressed him as, but Karkat doubted that last one. He really suspected the second guess, and, in that case, he didn’t know how to feel about it. He didn’t know if Dave’s brother had just invited him to look up to him as his big brother, too, and if that meant that he had indirectly been added to the family or something. Did this mean that Dirk was on his side, instead of against him? Their previous conversation hadn’t really given off that vibe at all, but, then again, it was pretty much impossible to read the vibes of someone whose face and tone didn’t show a single emotion. Dirk was far more hardcore than Dave in that aspect. 

Karkat got up from the couch. 

“Is it okay if I go back to bed?” He asked. Somehow, it was a lot easier to be genuinely biddable around this guy than around most other humans that he had come across before. It wasn’t only the height and muscles, but the guy’s posture, the air about him, the inherent power and authority that he harbored and carried around everywhere. He was easily feared, with reason, and Karkat would’ve probably respected him either way, regardless of the composition of his genes. 

“Of course.” Dirk replied, reaching for a screwdriver with his left hand to keep on working, however late into the night it was. That made something light up in Karkat’s brain, and push itself out in the open before he could really keep from saying it. 

“Is Dave left-handed, too?” 

He had never stopped to notice. 

“Ambidextrous.” 

Oh. 

“And white?” 

Dirk raised a brow from behind the shades. That had been a weird question, Karkat was painfully aware of that, but it really bothered him, too, because he wasn’t sure if he could tell humans apart anymore, not even by such a simple thing as skin color. That had him starting to think that maybe the world wasn’t wholly composed of binary code, and people weren’t categorized as ones or zeroes, which was why he was having so much trouble with this. Maybe Dave stood right in the middle and he didn’t know how to wrap his head around that. 

“Are you asking me if Dave’s white?” 

His cheeks colored. This was the first time that Dirk’s voice didn’t sound completely robotic, and actually allowed for some perplexity to bleed through. Karkat tensed. 

“He’s just not as white as you are and I don’t know if that’s because you’re too white or he’s not white enough. I, uh, I don’t know how that works.” 

Now, both of Dirk’s brows raised. This was utterly embarrassing; he could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. 

“His father is Hispanic.” Dirk explained. With a single sentence, he exposed a wide section of their family’s background, which made Karkat wonder after the mother, if she was even still around. Maybe not, since the brothers lived by themselves, and maybe their respective fathers hadn’t stuck around for long, either. Dave had never mentioned either one of his parents in conversation before, only his brother, who he very obviously looked up to, and that, now, this reverence made sense. Dirk was probably the only one left. 

“I guess your father isn’t.” He commented, voice small, as if afraid to overstep his boundaries in Dirk’s presence. 

“I guess not.” 

Did Dirk not know either or was he being confrontational all of a sudden? Karkat literally couldn’t tell by the dry and emotionless tone of his voice, but decided against pushing forward with this topic regardless. It seemed touchy, which made this the perfect time to end the conversation and go back to bed. He shifted his weight around on both feet for an indecisive moment before taking a step toward the hallway, making to leave. 

“Well… I should go. Thanks for having me.” 

“Sure. Goodnight, Karkat.” 

“Goodnight…” He couldn’t decide whether to say Dirk or Bro and went for neither. 

In Dave’s bedroom, he climbed into bed, into the spot right next to Dave, by his back, and hid his face against the nape of Dave’s neck, hugging his midriff, chest pressed to back and closeness under the covers. The warmth of Dave’s body was reassuring, and the scent of his skin was soothing. Karkat closed his eyes, held him tight, heart resonating. The boy in his arms was precious and he didn’t want to let him go. 

In the morning, Dave made him pancakes. They ate, chattered, laughed, and never broached any uncomfortable topics that would’ve ruined the moment. He didn’t mention the encounter with Dave’s brother the night before, and neither of them spoke of the entirety of the last week, anything that had happened, anything that they had said to each other twenty hours ago. They only talked about the here and the now and how delicious these pancakes were, how exceptional Dave was in the kitchen! Dave played off the compliment by saying that he could only cook maybe three dishes that were remotely edible, which made Karkat laugh, and admit to the fact that he couldn’t cook a single one, so Dave still had the lead in that regard. They grinned at each other; Karkat could get used to this kind of easy happiness. 

For lunch, Dave’s brother made them chicken tortilla soup, something that Karkat didn’t even know existed before today. He had his bowl and honestly didn’t think much of it, but, apparently, it was an incredibly tasty dish for humans, so he took that into careful consideration before judging the brother’s cooking. To him personally, though, it didn’t make much of a difference whether he was having this soup or some grub loaf boiled in water. Either didn’t taste super great, but they filled him up, which was what really mattered. Dave had two bowls before putting a movie on and snuggling with him on the couch. 

They watched The Nice Guys first, Karkat fell asleep in the middle of it, woke up by the end of a second, mystery movie, put the beginning of the first with the ending of the second and called it Hollywood cinema. Dave informed him that the second one had been Passengers, but he had just assumed that the cops had been sent to space somehow and that Ryan Gosling had turned into Chris Pratt. It made better sense to him than whatever non-cop related circumstances had sent people into space. Dave grinned when he said that, looking so bright, face so round that he kissed it, he  _ had _ to kiss it; he couldn’t simply sit there, hugging the body that he loved, staring into the mouth that he adored, and not give it a kiss. It was impossible. Dave smiled into the kiss and he smiled right back, his cheeks colored, his chest expanded. He was in love. 

He was in love and maybe they could play pretend for a day. Maybe they could stay in, watching movies, cuddling, kissing, not fighting, not arguing, not thinking of the outside world. Maybe, just for today, Karkat could pretend that he had a matesprit. He could pretend that impending heartbreak didn’t await him tomorrow, or Monday, or maybe even tonight. He had the chance to live a day where he wasn’t just a piece of workforce in the system to be acquired in bulk and, instead, simply a random person out there, falling in love and kissing a cute boy. The opportunity showed itself to him, and he seized it faster and stronger than he had literally never done before. Never had he wanted so much as to just pretend to be a human for a few hours, and those were the best hours of his entire life. They kissed, they cuddled, and he hid his face on Dave’s neck, and Dave ran fingers through his hair, and he blushed all day, unable to wipe this wide grin from his face because he had never been this happy before and he could’ve actually broken down in tears from such nice, wholesome, warm feelings filling his chest, but he didn’t. He breathed in, and in, and in, and out. Kissed Dave’s neck, touched Dave’s face, met with Dave’s mouth. Love was the best feeling in the world. 

For dinner, Dave took him out to a local restaurant just a few blocks down the street. They walked hand-in-hand, watching the well-dressed humans that filled the streets at this hour, either populating restaurants on romantic dates, hitting some bars with their friends, or getting in line for the clubs that were just about to open. It was a dazzling sight; the sparkles on their clothes, the spikes on their jackets, the shine of their shoes and the expensive material of their dresses. It all made Karkat’s wide eyes glint with awe and his hand grip Dave’s tighter, immensely grateful to have been at his side, incomparably beholden to him for such a breathtaking experience, and they weren’t even  _ doing _ anything; by holding Dave’s hand, Karkat was able to exist in this world that rejected him and how beautiful it was. How upset it would make him in the near future. It reminded him of the night before, sprinting out of the subway and walking the shadows toward Dave’s apartment through the glint and the sparkle of the Houston nightlife, but he didn’t think about it; the here and now were more important. The here and the now didn’t have him running the risk of getting caught by the police.

Dave had some human dish that, unsurprisingly, Karkat had never heard of, while he had the nicest, most delectable tuber paste in existence, and he didn’t even  _ like _ tuber paste; that was how good it was. Truly excellent. He never knew that food could’ve actually tasted good, or that he would’ve  _ wanted _ to eat more, yet there he was, finishing a plate and ordering dessert. Dessert! He could barely even believe himself. What was this place, even? It must’ve been dabbling with dark magic to have been able to produce such nice dishes. Karkat had never seen himself finish a single plate in his life, so this was different. It impressed him. They shared a strange dessert with Gushers in it, which honestly didn’t taste half bad, and left back for the apartment. Dave paid, Karkat didn’t mind; they held hands up the street. 

Late that night, on Dave’s bed to the background script of Rogue One and multiple loud explosions, Dave took his breath away. The hands that touched him were soft, the lips that met his skin were otherworldly, and he had never felt so warm, so hot, erupting; his thighs trembled with it, his hands shook and his lungs collapsed. They kissed; Dave tasted of cherry and his face melted from the heat of his own cheeks, across his nose, stinging every surface of his body raw. It was delicious and, for the first time, he was entirely unashamed to think that. Dave filled him up, kissed him hard, and held him through the ups and the downs. They swallowed each other’s moans, kisses and tongue before breathing out. 

This time, he didn’t feel weird. He didn’t feel stifled, as if suffocating underwater and overcome with an urge to leave; he felt fine, actually, full of a warm sort of tingling that had his face smiling wide and his heart beating stronger. He wasn’t ashamed of anything and Dave wasn’t surprised by anything, which made this a much better experience than last time. They hugged and kissed a lot, probably too much, but he didn’t care; tonight, and for tonight only, he’d allow himself to feel strongly and freely and act on it, all of it, unhinged and unafraid. He was unbound from his everyday chains and would enjoy the freedom while it lasted. 

They shared a showerhead, kissed some more under it, and regarded each other while bathed in bright light for the first time. The bruises on Dave’s face were a deep, deep purple that faded out into the tan of his skin tone and the cut on his cheek wasn’t the only one; he had another two shallow ones on his shoulder. So Dammek had gotten him there, too, and probably ruined a perfectly good shirt in the process. What a piece of shit. Was he still in rehab? Karkat didn’t know; his phone had been turned off for the entirety of this day while he played pretend and conveniently forgot about the events of yesterday. Frankly, he wasn’t too worried about Dammek per se, just vaguely concerned about Xefros’ wellbeing and overall mental stability. Mainly the last one, given Xefros’ psionic abilities, however weak and lacking training they were. It was a well known fact that psychic trolls were powerful and could unleash their full potential when in a specially troubling state of mind, such as Xefros’ when parted from his moirail for too long, but if he hadn’t completely destroyed 27-A by now, then that probably meant that Dammek had checked out of the basement sooner than later. Karkat would inevitably find out the moment he went back there. 

As they showered, his eye absently caught the faint scar under Dave’s ribs and reminded him of the talk with the brother in the middle of the night, encouraging him to ask after it, although, now, he didn’t know if he should. It very obviously had a story behind it, one that he didn’t know whether pride or shame made the ending, and if asking would sour the warm and nice atmosphere surrounding the both of them at the moment. On a second, closer and more careful look, he noticed that Dave actually had quite a few scars adorning his body, scattered all over, though none were as noticeable or as sizeable as the rib one. What had happened to him? Karkat was afraid to ask. Maybe this was the reason why he always wore long sleeves and a pair of pants. 

“You didn’t just trip on some stairs, did you?” Dave asked, voice quiet, caring, making his eyes snap up to meet with his face. 

“Huh?”

Dave nodded at his side. 

“That’s not something you get when you fall down some steps.” 

He glanced himself down, promptly stopping at the enormous, red mark coloring the spot underneath his grub scars. Right, the fucking subway staircase. Guess this was why he had had trouble breathing for these last thirty hours. The bruise was a dark and rusty sort of red that almost made him seem like a regular lowblood instead of a mutant. It also looked disgusting. 

“I told you I fell down the  _ stairs.” _

“You said it like it was no big deal.” 

“And it wasn’t.” 

Dave gave him a look, but remained quiet. He supposed that he won this round and, since they were speaking of injuries, he pointed at Dave’s rib scar. 

“How did you get that?” 

Dave briefly glanced at it before shrugging. 

“Some kid tried to fight me in high school once. I don’t really remember why, though.” Dave kept his eyes off to the side while speaking, shaking his head to dismiss the topic. Alright, so they were both dodging the truth, that was great. It was pointless addressing anything and playing pretend was really the only thing that they knew how to do properly, so Karkat took the loss and decided not to ask anything else.

On Sunday, Dave took him to a photography exhibition at the heart of Houston. He had never been to a museum before and, even though he wasn’t as interested in photography as Dave was, it was still pretty exciting to be here. The architecture of the building was gorgeous and the calm, intellectual air of it all made him feel as if part of the human elite class, surrounded by visibly well-read people and scholars of the arts. He felt fancy in skinny jeans and a scarf, holding the hand of a boy who knew what all of this was about and who told him of things that he didn’t understand, people that he had never heard of and photography techniques that he could only barely grasp the idea of. He liked to look at all of these different pictures hanging on white walls and decorated with different frames under strange lighting and a high ceiling. Most of their symbolism flew over his head, but some of them were very poetic and beautiful and easily caught his attention. He liked those the best. 

As they neared the last few exhibits, he saw a troll across the hall, accompanying a human around some hanging photographs that he hadn’t seen yet. She looked to have been a few years older than him in sparkling jewelry and a tight-fitting dress that must’ve been more expensive than most of this exhibition; hair professionally done and makeup beautiful enough to have her image painted on a canvas and sold off at an auction for millions of dollars. She was a walking masterpiece hovering across the mirrored floors and listening to the old human beside her talk of very disinteresting topics. Her face was blank, her eyes looked tired; she was a trophy troll and Karkat’s heart sank. He stared at her with big and doleful eyes as she slowly followed the human around and Dave distractedly told him of some photographer or another, words that disappeared the moment that they reached his ears. In the end, no matter how he felt, he and Dave weren’t much different than the couple across the hall. 

It broke his heart. This sudden and very harsh shock back to reality made him honestly feel like crying; his chest ached something terrible and his eyes threatened to water, were on the brink of spilling, had his throat in a lump and his lungs poked through. He hurt and just wanted to go home now. This wasn’t fun anymore, in a quick turn of events, and he just wanted his recuperacoon, the darkness and the silence of his own room, the petty drama of his friends and the exaggeration of everything that Dammek did. It was a lot easier to deal with all of that than to live another day pretending to be someone that he wasn’t and visiting spaces that he clearly wasn’t welcome in. He let go of Dave’s hand as they pushed through the exit door. 

“Where do you want to go next?” Dave asked him with a smile on his face and cheerfulness in his voice. Karkat preemptively felt bad for his upsetting answer and for wiping the joy out of Dave’s innocent heart. 

“Home.” 

“Like, to the building?”

“Yeah.” 

Dave nodded, no smile. They walked over to the bus stop and sat down next to each other. He wanted to sink into the ground. 

“Are you okay? I mean, I know the exhibition was pretty boring, but…” 

“No, it wasn’t. I liked it, I just, I need to go home now. Sorry.” 

They’d never work out, anyway. Dave was from a whole different world.

“It’s alright. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” Maybe.

The bus arrived, so Dave leaned over and kissed him goodbye. It was heartbreakingly ironic how he had wished for this ever since they had met, and that now, at the precipice of a life-changing decision, it had happened. He almost broke down right there, but managed to hold in it just while Dave could still see him, just until he climbed into the bus and broke away from Dave’s line of sight. He knew that they weren’t meant to be together, and wouldn’t, and that this make believe weekend would end at some point, but it still hurt despite how much he had prepared himself for it. He took a seat by the opposite window from the sidewalk and buried his face in the cuffs of his hoodie. A shiver ran through him as he muffled a string of sobs and dried the tears still in his eyes. 

He felt empty, with an occasional ache dully resonating through the pits of his rib cage. The bus stopped at his street and he hopped out, emotionless, resembling a hollow specter. Drained and dead inside, he walked down the sidewalk and through the open gates, where the security guard leisurely watched the slow traffic of the street leaning on the brick wall. The guy’s eyes fell on him as he crossed the front yard. 

“Where’ve you been?” The guy asked, voice stale but holding a hint of interest in it. He shrugged in response. 

“Around.” 

“Around.” The guy echoed back, unimpressed. “The police’s been after you for two days and you’ve just been around.” 

Oh, fuck, of course. Damn, he almost forgot about that. He paused, arms going still, hanging loose at his sides. The security guard watched him from twenty feet away, just by the steps leading up to the front doors. Their eyes met.

“You’re welcome to see yourself to the basement right now.” The man spoke while pushing himself off of the wall, and starting toward his station located next to the gate. “I’ll be filling out your papers.” 

“Wait.” The word left him with a quick breath, slipping out from fright, almost mindless. “Wait, I…” It was a self-preservation instinct that drove his voice out of his throat and the first thing in his mind to bargain for a clean record, no strikes. The safety of his future career. “I was actually at a human’s house this whole time.” He immediately hated saying that, but it made the guy stop and turn around. He could still save himself. “I wasn’t loitering on the streets, honest.” 

“A human’s house?” The guy looked as surprised as he sounded to have been.

“Yeah.” 

The man gave him a look, debated within himself whether or not to say anything to that, decided against it, and continued on over to his station. Karkat followed, hating himself even if fully aware that nothing else would’ve cleaned his record. This was the only disgusting and self-degrading way. 

“So a human is interested in you.” The guy spoke far too conversationally while shuffling around his desk, probably looking for something. The legal archive of Karkat’s misbehavior, if anything. 

The words stung.

“Uh, yeah.” 

He felt the weight of his worthlessness droop his shoulders. The man pulled out a sheet of paper from the pile and flipped it upside-down for him to see it. It wasn’t a whole archive, but the current allegations against him and the police’s order to pluck him out of the streets. Legal action to strike him unconscious. His heart skipped a beat. 

“If you’re telling me the truth, I’ll need your human to sign the order off and take responsibility for your misdemeanor.” 

Fuck.

“If they’re still interested in pursuing you after this, then they should probably pay a visit to the landlord and prove their eligibility for ownership.” 

In retrospect, this was a bad idea and Karkat would much rather get shot in the forehead than call Dave to bail him out of his own stupidity. If he hadn’t run off into the night knowing very well that he’d get in trouble for it, then he wouldn’t have been in this situation, pulling Dave into it, asking him to sign this shit off right after he had acted weird and blown him off from going somewhere else. He had ended their date just to call Dave up and see him again anyway, to his own convenience. Em-fucking-barrassing and more than just a little suspicious. He hated this whole thing and the fact that the guy had used the word ownership, even though, yes, going to the landlord with the intention of buying him off was literally the definition of ownership and put him under a human adult’s responsibility, so  _ they _ would have to answer for his behavior, exempting him from legal action, except, shit, Dave was a minor. He wasn’t twenty-one yet and couldn’t sign this. Shit. Karkat blushed; he felt like a fucking idiot now for even thinking that he could’ve walked out of this one. 

“Okay, um, let me just call him, alright? I’ll, I’ll be right back.” He spoke hurriedly, walking off to the side, out of earshot of the security guard but still within the confines of the front yard, within eyesight from here. He needed to breathe, and think, and calm down for a second. Just,  _ calm down _ for a second. He fished his phone out of a pocket and turned it on, hands trembling, eyes watering again. He was in so much fucking trouble, God, he was fucked. He was  _ fucked. _ He fumbled with the buttons, breathing weird, scared to death. He couldn’t call Dave, it wouldn’t make a difference, just sink his already low reputation deeper into the ground. His vision swam, the screen lit up. This was the end. 

Wait, the brother. He could call Dave’s brother, right? The guy looked to have been much older than twenty-one and if he didn’t immediately kill Karkat from the call, then he’d die down in the basement anyway, and it wouldn’t make a difference, it was a shot in the dark. He’d take his chances, they were the only ones available. He unlocked the phone and was flooded with missed calls and unread texts from his friends, probably overreacting about his absence and curious to know where he had been for the last forty hours as if they couldn’t have guessed. He trashed every notification and logged onto Facebook, looked Dirk up, Dirk, uh, Dirk… Fuck, he didn’t know his last name. Dave what? He shut his eyes, focused, tried to remember the roll calls in class, the teacher’s voice, how Dave signed his name on their papers. Dave S. Dave S… Dave S? He typed in Dirk S and hoped for the best. 

Four search results down, and he found the guy. Strider, that was the name. He tapped on the contact and called him without thinking twice because he knew that he’d chicken out if he actually stopped to rationalize this through. His heart was pounding in his throat as the call rang, though it only rang once before the guy answered. 

“Karkat?”

Both the suddenness and the deep voice startled him. 

“Hi, um, hey.” 

His heart was breaking out through his ribs. 

“Hey.” A pause, tone suspicious. “What is it?” 

He felt fucking sheepish. 

“I, well, I need you to come here. Where I live. Please, it’s, it’s stupid but I really need you here.” 

“What happened?”

“Is Dave home?”

He wasn’t thinking.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t bring him.” 

A heartbeat. 

“Why?”

“I’ll explain everything when you’re here. It’s 27-A.” 

He hung up. His hands trembled and sweat prickled his forehead; he couldn’t believe himself, what he had just done, it was insane.  _ He _ was insane. If Dave’s brother really didn’t tell him about this encounter, which he obviously would, then the guy was probably on his way to personally put Karkat down or maybe just feel his bones crack under his knuckles, maybe hear them break in the palm of his hand. Dirk could easily kill him and, despite how terrifying that was, the idea of both brothers discussing this situation and thinking less of him because of it hurt way more. It was devastating. He knew that he was garbage, he just didn’t really want Dave to think of him this way, too. His shoulders dropped; he pressed his forehead to the gate waiting for a miracle. 

The brother arrived on a motorcycle, wearing a helmet that had the exact same pair of shades over the visor that he always wore on his face. It was a curious sight to see and almost made Karkat forget why he had summoned the Devil to meet him on this day. He moved away from the gate, watching the brother park before hopping off and removing the helmet from his head. Unsurprisingly, he wore shades underneath it. Karkat would never have guessed. The shades directed themselves on him, sending a shock through his body and his legs moving to meet the guy on the sidewalk. He would die this afternoon. 

“Hey.” 

Karkat hastifully closed the distance between them to less than a feet apart, probably into the guy’s personal space, but it didn’t matter; the security guard was watching them from his station, Karkat saw him in his peripheral vision. This distance was close enough to whisper, and he hid behind Dirk’s massive body in order to do so without getting lip-read. 

“I’m in trouble and I need you to sign me out of it.” 

Dirk’s blank expression remained. 

“Is this because you stayed out past curfew for two nights in a row?” 

Getting called out had never stung so shamefully before. 

“Yeah, I’m an idiot. Please do this for me.” 

Dirk wrapped a big arm across his shoulders and turned toward the security guard, pulling him to follow and remain in stride as they walked past the gate to the station beside it. The guard eyed them strangely at first, but, as they approached, he started to size Dirk up with precision, and promptly dropped whatever stance from before that even remotely suggested confrontation. Dirk had to lean down a bit to peer into the cabin and face the man from top to bottom, making the guy seem far more miniscule than he really was, which must’ve played a big part in his psychological because he immediately smiled in an attempt to seem unthreatening. In response to that, Dirk plastered a smile on his face that might’ve looked professionally friendly to anyone who didn’t know him, but that it was still unnerving enough to keep the situation from escalating the slightest bit. Karkat, under the weight of this guy’s muscles, felt his heart run a marathon against his own ribs.

“Good afternoon, Brady Jones. Is Karkat here giving you trouble?” Dirk spoke with a faux friendly tone, shaking Karkat a little under his wing to really emphasize his words. The raw amount of power radiating off of his entire posture was enough to send Brady Jones, who Karkat had never known the name of until this point, into a meek state of existence that put a void in his lungs and sweat on his forehead. The security guard’s quick change of behavior was terrifying to see. He didn’t have a name tag on and neither one of them dared to ask how Dirk knew the man’s entire name. 

“Ah, well, he broke out of code last Friday, sir, and stayed out past curfew, as you know. Since we had no word of his whereabouts for that period, it’s protocol that we file out a report on his behavior and alert the officers on patrol to search for him. Here’s the report, if you’d like to read it.” Brady Jones kept his eyes mostly down at the sheet of paper in question while talking before handing it over to Dirk, who took it with his free hand, unbound from Karkat’s shoulders. 

Dirk regarded the report for a while, then set it down on the windowsill, using the flat surface to sign his name where it was required. He flipped the sheet toward Brady Jones when he was done with it. 

“Thanks, Brady. I’ll be sure to call you up next time Karkat spends the night out, so you won’t have to worry about him.” 

“Of course, Mr… Strider. I’ll be glad to hear from you. Just a suggestion, though, if you intend on pursuing ownership, it’s still a little early to do so, but you can speak with the landlord for a reservation. That way, you won’t have to really worry about someone beating you to the punch in a couple of years.” 

Ownership reservation. The more the security guard talked, the more Karkat wanted to vomit. He felt queasy and absolutely worthless. Judging by the way that Dirk set his jaw at this, he must’ve empathized with some of Karkat’s feelings. His friendly smile also looked terrifying. 

“As you said, Brady, it’s still a little early to make decisions, but I’ll keep that in mind.” Dirk’s voice was entirely dull as he took a step back, away from the station, and brought Karkat along under the weight of his arm. “Take care, man, and thanks again.” 

The security guard bid them an easy farewell that Dirk didn’t look twice at before turning and pulling Karkat out onto the sidewalk, rounding the first corner out of eyesight from the guy and out of earshot from the entire building. Only then did he remove his arm from Karkat and dropped the faux chummy act. He was a lot less terrifying when true to himself, however much the pure intimidation emanating from his entire demeanor never lessened or ceased. Karkat still half expected to get punched in the face and die on impact any second now. 

“First of all, you’re welcome, but I want you to know that I’m not doing this again. You know the rules, and I don’t care if you break them. You should be privy to the repercussions by now.” 

He nodded in silence, feeling his cheeks burn from shame. Attempting to defend himself now would be fruitless, since it was all entirely his fault from the start, anyway, and he knew that very well. Plus, not arguing with Dirk seemed like a really good idea. He just kept his eyes cast down and accepted the reproach. 

“I don’t know why you did what you did.” Dirk continued, except, this time, his voice was softer, almost kind. It hinted at something nicer than absolute nothingness. “And I don’t know what’s your relation with Dave, either, but if you’re going to frequent my apartment, then I’d like to know more than just your name.” 

He had a feeling that Dirk already knew more than just his name, but whatever knowledge that the guy had hadn’t come from him, and he supposed that that was what Dirk meant. He glanced up to meet with the shades that watched him and nodded again. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” 

“Then who are you?” 

He opened his mouth, and closed it. Dirk already knew his name, so what kind of question was this? He didn’t really know how to answer. 

“Uh, I’m a lime sign and…” Maybe Dirk meant that conceptually. If he were to allow someone into his home, then that person probably shouldn’t be a stranger, and this was Karkat’s chance to prove that he could be trusted. “I’m Dave’s friend. We met in class. He wanted to pair up for a project, so we started talking and we kind of grew close after a while. He’s just, he’s really nice and I really like him. I think, I think he’s probably the only one I can talk to. He’s great, and he listens; he’s… Something else, he…” His vision grew blurry. Fuck, not now. “He’s a really good person and I’m sorry for showing up at your doorstep uninvited, I just, I needed someone, and he’s, he’s the only one, he---” He wiped at his eyes. Shit. “Sorry, I don’t know. I’ve just been such an asshole to him and he’s, he’s been so nice, always, very supportive and there for me and I’ve given him nothing but bullshit and…” He sniffled, wiping at his eyes again. “Fuck. You shouldn’t have come here. You should’ve let them take me to the basement. I’m a waste of fucking time.” 

Dirk remained silent, not agreeing to that, but not refuting it, either. Karkat couldn’t meet with the shades, or any portion of his stoic face, and simply kept his eyes down at the ground, rubbing on them, sniffling quietly until his emotions passed and cleared and allowed him to breathe again. It took him a few minutes, but Dirk gave him his time and space for it. They stood before each other as he filled his lungs up and let out a big sigh. He felt really stupid. 

“Do you like Starbucks?” Dirk asked. 

He nodded, still unable to look into the guy’s face. 

“Sweet. I’ll get you some hot chocolate and we can talk about Dave some more. How’s that?” Dirk’s voice was devoid of a single emotion, but his words were nice, and the gesture was kind. Karkat agreed with another mute nod before starting off down the street alongside him. 

With hot chocolate in hand, they sat at a booth by the window. Out on the street, people wore light jackets across their backs and scarves wrapped around their necks due to the beginning of fall that brought them some wind during the day and lower temperatures at night, while Dirk wore a tank top and black pants, seemingly entirely unbothered by the weather that surrounded him. Karkat had worn his hoodie ever since the last day of summer and really couldn’t make heads or tails of Dave’s brother. 

“Dave was fighting for you, wasn’t he? Last Friday. He was defending you.” 

His chest weighed down. 

“Yeah, it was all my fault.”

“I’d say it was your assailant’s fault, really.” 

He kept quiet, swearing to the oath of never defying Dirk Strider on literally anything, ever. He sipped on his cocoa instead. 

“I’m not going to tell Dave about any of this, so you’ll get the chance to, and I advise that you take it.” 

“I will.” 

Dirk rested a forearm on the table, leaning forward on it, toward Karkat. Even sitting down across from him, Dirk’s impressive stature was still clearly evident. He was a powerful force. 

“I’m on your side, Karkat. Remember that.” 

He didn’t know to what degree that was true, but he certainly wouldn’t forget it. 


	9. Decisions, finalities, something else entirely

Upon entering the main lobby, the first face that greeted him was Xefros’, except he didn’t look quite as cheerful as Karkat would’ve anticipated him to have been after worrying and trying to reach him for two full days. Xefros didn’t look relieved at all to know that he was fine or even remotely glad to see him; in fact, he looked pissed right off and annoyed as Hell, which were emotions that most people didn’t usually attribute to him because he never actually harbored anything other than concern or fright. Karkat frowned a bit at that, wondering if it had anything to do with the fact that he hadn’t replied to a single text or answered a single call or if Xefros’ sour mood was due to something else, perhaps related to his moirail, the person who dictated his emotions. He wouldn’t have been very surprised to have gotten the last one right. 

Xefros approached him with heavy steps and a very tired expression. The fire inside of him seemed to have been put out in the second that it took him to cross the lobby.

“What the fuck, man.” Xefros greeted him weakly, his voice bearing no energy in it in the slightest. This was such a strange sight that Karkat felt himself caught speechless from it, inadvertently allowing Xefros to continue. “Just, what the fuck. You’re fine, nothing happened to you. Why didn’t you pick up?” 

It was strange hearing Xefros curse, since he barely ever did, only when pushed to an extreme or another, which, considering how tired he looked, and how weak his tone was, it all just made this much weirder. Maybe this  _ was _ the result of an extreme or other for him, only Karkat couldn’t see it very well. After all, Xefros had sent him at least six messages inquiring after his well-being for the past day and a half. That must’ve taken a toll on him, as well as on all the others. He briefly wondered if Xefros felt responsible for his escapade last Friday, being the last sober person to have been able to stop him from leaving, but hadn’t. 

“Sorry, I…” Didn’t want the illusion to have broken. The weekend with Dave had been so nice that it hurt to think about now. “I should’ve answered.”

“Yeah, you  _ should  _ have. Do you know how… How much headache you gave me?  _ Us? _ A single text would’ve been enough.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

Xefros sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Karkat had never seen him so stressed out before. It made him feel a lot worse about this than he already was. 

“Look, I’m sorry, Xefros; I didn’t mean to make you guys worry.” 

“Yeah, I know, it’s, it’s whatever. Doesn’t matter, just, you were with him, right? You were with Dave this whole time, that’s why you’re  _ here, _ and not down there, which you should be, by the way. It’s like, it’s like everything that the tetrarch did for you was useless. It was nothing. He went to rehab for  _ nothing.  _ We finally manage to drive Dave away and the first thing you do is run back to him? What, just, what is happening here? What’s going on? Are you on our side or his?” 

The more Xefros talked, the further his shoulders dropped. He didn’t know how to answer that and felt like a traitor for even considering the human’s side, but Dirk had been there for him just now, and Dave was always so good to him, so sweet, the best part of everything, the force that filled his chest with air and his head with clouds. Being around Dave was intoxicating and he couldn’t honestly say that he didn’t love every minute of it. All was wonderful when next to him, but the moment that Karkat stepped out of the rose-colored atmosphere surrounding him and was able to analyze it from an outer perspective, to see a more objective point of view of the situation, he knew that their involvement was a fraud. Their feelings might’ve been genuine toward one another, but it didn’t change the fact that they weren’t meant to seriously be together, not past occasional hookups and secretive meetups. There was no such thing as human and troll solidarity; only the naive believed that. 

“Sorry.” 

He literally had nothing to defend himself with. Before him, Xefros ran both hands down his entire face, looking absolutely exhausted. 

“Whatever, I’m glad you’re back.” Xefros spoke unenthusiastically, not sounding to have been glad at all, but Karkat decided against confronting him about that. The guy looked very on edge at the moment, and Karkat didn’t really want to make this any worse for him than it already was. “Just tell me that he didn’t, you know, do anything to hurt you or, or, you know what I mean. Tell me… Tell me what you honestly, sincerely think of him because I don’t know whether to hate him or not and I’m just very tired of thinking about this. I need an answer.” 

His absence must’ve taken a bigger toll on Xefros than he had imagined. 

“He didn’t do anything to me; he’s a good person and you really shouldn’t worry about him. He’s not a threat to any of us, honestly.” 

“Can we trust him, then?” 

He hesitated. 

“I don’t know. I think we should just keep him out of our circle and not mix things.” 

Xefros nodded tiredly, accepting this fully and completely, with no objections. He looked too drained to even be able to make an objection.

“Right.” Xefros’ voice was feeble as he took a step back and turned toward the cafeteria. “You should go up to the penthouse; they’re looking for you.” 

“Who?” 

“Everyone.” 

He didn’t ask for an explanation. Instead, he watched Xefros walk out into the cafeteria and disappear behind its doors. The guy looked completely destroyed, both physically as well as mentally, and Karkat really didn’t want to push him unnecessarily further. Something must’ve happened while he was out experiencing a dream, and he had a feeling that this had to do with him, in a way or another, and was somehow his fault. He felt responsible for at least a fraction of Xefros’ exhaustion, and made a mental note to ask him about it after he recovered some, or seemed a little better than a total wreckage. 

Crossing the lobby toward the elevator, his phone rang. It was Sollux, calling for what must’ve been the thousandth time, so he did the guy the favor of answering this time around. 

“Hey, Sollux.” 

_ “He lives!” _

He had to lean away from the speaker at the shout that very obviously wasn’t directed at him, but at the other people in the room. He heard some voices in the background reacting to this but couldn’t make out what they were saying very clearly. The room seemed more full than he had anticipated it to have been. 

“You’re here, right, dude? You’re here in the building? Where are you?” 

“Yeah, I’m in the entrance hall.” 

“He’s downstairs, guys! Get up here; we’re in the penthouse, seven-one-two. We  _ really _ gotta talk.” 

His eyes shut. Of course they had to talk. 

Up in Eridan’s room, his three friends and the host greeted him with a lot of energy, all loud voices, curious questions and rejoicing, speaking over each other in a jumble of noise. Karkat winced at the assault on his ears, watching the four trolls approach and surround him as he neared the open doorway. The commotion received some interested glances from Eridan’s neighbors and the passerby trolls that just wanted to cross the hallway with an objective. He wondered why they hadn’t closed the door for this, or if they had only swung it open to welcome his arrival. He felt really bad now for not having contacted his friends throughout the entire weekend, and, instead, left them worrying sick after him. They all looked so very happy to see him that he felt like a perfect asshole. 

“Everyone!” Dammek raised his voice above all others, gathering their attention. “Quiet down; we’re making too much noise here.” 

They all complied instantly. So in the last two days, Dammek still held absolute control over all of their friends. Cool to know that nothing had really changed in this short meanwhile. Even Eridan, who generally didn’t give a shit about anyone here, obeyed the lowblood right now. Karkat suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Karkat, tell us what happened. Did the human call you over? Is that why you were there?” 

“Did he trap you in his house or something?” Sollux added. 

“Why would he do that?” Eridan sincerely inquired, pretty much new to this whole thing. 

“Because humans are weird.” 

“They do that with hostages and, well, Karkat might not be too far from that.” Aradia explained. 

“Guys, shut up. Let him talk.” 

They all looked at him, making this whole thing suddenly feel as if a spotlight had just been turned on above his head, and had started to burn the very tips of his hair. He passed the anxious crowd a glance before clearing his throat. 

“I went there because I wanted to and I stayed because I didn’t want to come back. I’d have stayed forever if I could.” 

“Do you love him?” Sollux suddenly asked. 

As an immediate response to that, his eyes widened. 

“Uh, I, I really like him. I like him a lot, that’s all.” 

Evasive.

“So you didn’t run off as consequence of overwhelming emotion.” Aradia posed, not phrasing it as a question, but not making it sound like a statement, either. It seemed to have been a mere observation. 

“No.” 

“Did you feel indebted to him because of the fight, like you had to apologize and make it up to him for it?” Dammek asked, tone skeptical and vile. It kind of got on Karkat’s nerves some, but he didn’t let himself get carried away with it. Dammek wasn’t worth the trouble. 

“I felt  _ bad _ because you nearly blinded him and treated him like trash. He’s just a person, man. He wasn’t there to kidnap me or some shit. He’s all fucked up now because of you, by the way, and I’m not surprised that you barely have a damn bruise on your face.” 

Dammek turned to glance at Sollux, pointing a hand in Karkat’s direction, as if presenting him. 

“See what I mean?” 

“See  _ what?” _

Alright, so maybe he wasn’t the greatest at keeping his temper in check. That was fair. Dammek still wasn’t worth the trouble, though, but it seemed like trouble couldn’t keep away from the guy.

“Nothing. Look, he just likes Dave a lot. I don’t think there’s too much to this.” Sollux spoke simply, shaking his head a bit while addressing Dammek, who didn’t look to be agreeing with him on this one. Karkat glanced confusedly between the two. 

“Why do you think he likes him so much, because he’s fun to be around? Open your eyes, Sollux; this is clearly the fruits of an ongoing exploitation.” 

“What?”

“No, I don’t think Dave is smart enough for that. Sorry, KK, but he just seems pretty dumb to me.” 

“Oh, really? So you don’t remember when he tried to school me on the privileges of his echelon and almost got hit in the face?” 

“I remember that, but a successful emotional manipulation takes a  _ lot _ of research and study to master, which I don’t think he’s done.” 

“Manipulation?” Karkat cut in, loud enough to have the entire room look at him again. “You guys seriously think he’s some chaotic evil mind player or whatever? Fucking shit, he’s just a kid. If he wanted my undivided time and devotion, he would’ve just signed a contract on me. It’s not that difficult to acquire a troll here.” 

“He’s underage, Karkat. He legally can’t do that, and would have to resort to the next best, most successful option.” 

“Sorry, Dammek, but the way you talk about him almost sounds like you’re talking about yourself.” 

Dammek’s brows furrowed behind the shades that covered his face, accompanied by a tilting of the head to express his confusion. The others remained silent, as well, expecting Karkat to elaborate on this, as if he ever would. Instead, he turned the topic around. 

“Guys, Dave didn’t do anything. I ran off on my own and he took me in when he could very well have taken me to the police department instead. He’s good and kind and I’m fucking tired of saying this, so if no one here wants to believe me, then fuck it. I don’t care.” He turned around, making to leave the room. “I just wish you guys would mind your own business, for once.” 

He promptly walked out and nobody followed. 

In the morning, Dammek didn’t show up for breakfast. Xefros seemed very confused by this, anxious and deeply concerned for the love of his life’s sudden distaste for breakfast, but no one other than him really cared about that. He must’ve been late, they assured Xefros, over and over, to pretty much no end result or any real effect. Xefros could barely touch his food the entire time, too busy obsessing over someone who really didn’t deserve his attention. They all ate in mild distress because of this and got up to leave, still to no appearance of the damned. Xefros tugged at his own collar, worried beyond belief, which made all of the others stand around in the entrance hall for a few minutes waiting for Dammek, but only because they collectively and unspokenly pitied Xefros. Sollux very often glanced at his phone, though, seeming anxious to leave, while Xefros couldn’t tear his eyes away from the stairway. They’d have to go very soon. 

“I’m, I’m going to check on him.” Xefros suddenly blurted out, with eyes perfectly fixed on the stairs despite addressing the people that stood behind himself. He quickly took off for the upper floors without a glance over his shoulder.

As Xefros disappeared up the stairway shaft, the other three glanced between themselves. 

“What’s all of this about?” Karkat asked, not very in the know of what had been going on during this last weekend. Something must’ve happened for those two to be acting so strange. 

“They had a really big fight last night.” Aradia explained in a tone so dry that didn’t indicate whether or not she thought anything of it. 

Karkat, on the other hand, gaped. What, the perfect couple, fighting? No way. Xefros standing up for himself for once in his life, against Dammek’s toxic behavior? He could barely even picture something like that. Maybe that was why Xefros had looked so exhausted the day before, and it didn’t really involve Karkat at all. He was so self-centered it was shameful, really.

“Yeah, MM left really pissed off, but I don’t think that’s the reason why he didn’t show his face for breakfast. I mean, he’s not one to avoid confrontation, like, even if they happened to have another fight right now, I don’t think he’d run from it.” 

“I think he’d even try to make it happen, to be honest. Did you guys watch the whole thing last night?” 

“Yeah, we were right there; it just blew up in front of us. Even Eridan watched it speechless. It was something I never thought I’d get to see.” Aradia commented briefly, with a pensive air about her. 

Karkat really wished he hadn’t missed that. 

“Why were they arguing?” 

Alternatively, what had pushed Xefros over the edge? Someone always so quiet and composed must’ve had a very serious reason to shout at the person who he literally worshipped, who he put before his own damn life, and Karkat couldn’t imagine what that could’ve been, what had been so big that had Xefros losing his mind. Another Dammek, maybe? A better, more righteous Dammek? That wasn’t difficult to find at all. In fact, anyone here was a worthier Dammek than the guy himself, and maybe Xefros had finally seen that.

“Well, MM’s obsession with Dave these days has been a little much, and, apparently, that’s a big problem for their relationship.” 

“They had a fight because of Dave?” 

“I suppose it wasn’t because of Dave as much as it was because of the way that Dammek’s been going about this whole thing.” 

Karkat nodded, slowly, thoughtfully. So Xefros did finally open his eyes to how unhealthy some of Dammek’s mannerisms and obsessions could get, and was risking the end of their relationship for a change in his moirail’s behavior. That was good, it was great; it taught Xefros to fight for comfort instead of constantly readjusting himself to Dammek, molding himself around the guy. It was a small stepping stone that must’ve felt like a boulder for him, and Karkat was proud of his persistence. 

“Can someone get them? We’re supposed to leave in like a minute.” 

“I’ll go.” Karkat volunteered. 

Up on the third floor, he found Xefros standing in the hallway with his phone glued to his ear. He approached in clear sight, but Xefros didn’t seem to have noticed him, too busy focusing on the conversation through the speaker to really see him in the sidelines. 

“Xefros?” He called softly, not meaning to disturb the conversation but here to tell the time anyway. 

That, however quietly it had been spoken, still made Xefros jump a feet into the air and clutch the phone to his chest as if struck by a lightning bolt. Karkat’s eyes widened from his friend’s surprising fright, nearly matching the guy’s terror-stricken face. Xefros was very clearly jumpy and worrisome without his moirail around, so Karkat made a mental note to keep an eye on him for the moment, just while they still couldn’t locate Dammek. It was evident that he wasn’t in his room, and Karkat honestly didn’t know where else he would’ve been if not here. He didn’t know Dammek very well, had no interest in changing that, which rendered him pretty useless for this one. He’d help Xefros out in other ways, though, like making sure that he didn’t accidentally implode as a result of prolonged exposure to Dammek’s absence or kill someone in his mission to find the guy. 

“Are you talking to him?” 

His question made Xefros glance at the phone in his hand and shake his head before putting it away. No dice. 

“Voicemail.” Xefros informed him, very clearly antsy to barrel through the door and crash into his moirail’s room. Considering their closeness, Karkat would’ve imagined that Xefros should have a spare key for this exact purpose, but he supposed that their relationship was far more misunderstood by himself than he had originally thought. He didn’t care to mend that, though. Distance from all things Dammek related had consistently proven to be healthy for him, as well as for everybody else, and he’d keep it that way to the best of his ability. 

“It’s almost time; we gotta go. I’m sure he’ll be there for class.” 

Xefros didn’t seem to care about skipping class, or about much of anything other than taking down this door with his psionics, but resigned to following him downstairs instead, and rejoining the group for the bus ride. 

Karkat didn’t actually know whether or not Dammek would show up for class today, at all, and wasn’t surprised to see that he skipped the entirety of the first few periods. He didn’t have a single idea of where Dammek could’ve been or what he could’ve been doing this whole time, and didn’t really care to find out, either. Dammek was tall for a lowblood and stronger than average, probably because he worked out or something, if Karkat had to guess; he had no idea what this guy did in his free time, besides terrorize Xefros for fun and piss everyone off with his dumb revolutionary tales, but that didn’t matter. Fact was that Dammek could handle himself and shouldn’t find it difficult to get out of trouble, which he probably was in at the moment, entirely caused by himself, as well. He could’ve been out on the streets punching police officers in the face and stealing their car, for all that Karkat knew. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he eventually showed up drenched in blood but without a single drop of his own. 

Three seats down, Xefros was having the worst time of his life. He was anxious beyond belief, bouncing his legs and absently scratching at his arms, surely not paying a lick of attention to the exposition up front or to his own thoughts, unless they exclusively revolved around Dammek. Karkat wanted to tell him some reassuring words, but wasn’t seated close enough to him to do so, and just resorted to doing that later, maybe during lunch break, which would just be in a few minutes, anyway. He pulled his phone out to check the time and make sure of that when a text from Dave appeared on the screen. 

_ hey wanna have lunch together _

He blinked at it a couple of times, drawing a complete blank as to how he should answer this. Did he want to? Yesterday had been an indication that he shouldn’t pursue Dave any longer, lest he should find himself in the position of trophy troll to an ineligible owner, or, worse, under his brother’s name, so having lunch right now probably wasn’t a good idea, unless they met up to break it all off, once and for all. His heart went cold at the thought. He really,  _ really _ liked Dave, but leading him on wasn’t right, and staying together was unimaginable, barely even a conceivable option. He couldn’t keep doing what he had been doing for this last week, going to Dave and indulging himself to a sort of Heaven that he could never actually have, then retreating back home, cutting all contact and distancing himself for a while, until temptation overcame abstinence and he fell in again. It wasn’t healthy, for him or for Dave, and he had to make up his mind about it. He had to choose a side already. 

Glancing down three seats, to where Xefros’ arms were red and his face was perpetually turned to the door, Karkat wondered if this was how his friends had spent the entirety of the last weekend that he had spent out. Judging by the number of unread texts and missed calls on his phone, then that had probably been the case. Looking at Xefros worry after Dammek, he felt the weight of his friends’ love and concern on his shoulders. Despite what he thought of Dammek, the guy had never actually wished him any harm, and, in fact, stuck to his side this entire time, even if his way of doing that had been more than just a little unorthodox. Dammek was weird and manipulative, but he had defended Karkat, searched for him, and never actually antagonized him this whole time. He had a strange way of showing affection toward others, but it shouldn’t have kept Karkat from appreciating his good intentions anyway. That wasn’t even to mention the rest of his friends, who still weren’t totally normal but that at least displayed emotions better and were clearer in letting Karkat know that he was a beloved member of this little family. They had all flooded his phone with their concern this last weekend, while Karkat hadn’t read a single text and, instead of stopping a second to think about his friends, he had just spent two days wishing for a wholly different life where he could walk the streets without Dave as his entry ticket into the human world. 

He was an asshole; unappreciative of his friends and taking advantage of Dave’s affection for him. This whole time, he had only thought of himself, without stopping a moment to think about how Dave felt toward all of this; his hesitancy and general holdback; the way that he was so into their intimacy in a second, then completely against it the next; how confusing he must’ve been to understand and how nothing that he did ever made any fucking sense. As a small excerpt of his idiocy, there was their first time together, after which he went completely insane, ran out of the apartment, came back a few minutes later, offered no explanation, spent the rest of the week avoiding Dave, turned his face when Dave had the courage to come up to him despite everything, put Dave under Dammek’s fists and claws, showed up at his house hours later, drunk and pitiful, made Dave take him in again, spent the entire weekend with him pretending to be a perfect and happy-loving couple, freaked out on Sunday, bolted home with no explanation and now, just now, he had seriously considered meeting up with Dave to officially end things. Dave must think that he suffered from some mental illness because, shit, he probably did, and his utter lack of communication skills didn’t help that at all. In fact, it made his life a living Hell. 

He had never taken Dave into consideration, always making choices by himself without consulting Dave when it regarded the both of them and their involvement with each other. He had gone about this as if he had been the only person involved, which wasn’t true. Dave was as much part of this as he was, and decisions should’ve been taken together. He didn’t even  _ know _ Dave; that was how self-centered he had been this entire time. He hadn’t cared to ask Dave what he thought of their time together, or the world in general, or how he felt about anything. He didn’t even know why Dave lived with his brother instead of his parents or if he had ever had a dog for a pet. He had put no effort into getting to know Dave, and had shown no interest in wanting to do that in the first place. He had been so self-centered that, looking back on it, that must’ve been why their friendship had never felt right, because Dave was essentially trying to befriend a brick wall. He had been so defensive and afraid of getting hurt that he had closed himself off completely. Dave didn’t need to have lifted a finger to make him hurt, because he had done all of that by himself, with an area of effect that had reached Dave, as well. 

The class was dismissed for lunch and he hadn’t replied to Dave’s text yet. 

As they got up to leave, Xefros sidled up beside him pretty quickly, catching his attention. 

“Do you know where Dave is?” Xefros asked, voice hurried and overwhelmingly distressed. The anxiety radiating off of him was almost tangible with how present it was, and how clearly it showed on the crease of his brow and the tension on his shoulders. He carried himself compact and upright, hugging his own arms and scratching at exposed skin. His forearms were damn near bleeding at this point. 

“No, I haven’t talked to him yet.” He answered absently, frowning down at Xefros’ arms. “Dude, you have to calm down. Look at yourself.” 

Xefros brought both hands up and ran them through his hair, tugging onto it as if to anchor his fingers somewhere else. His big reds looked desolate. 

“Fuck. Fuck, dude. Shit.” 

“Why are you asking about him?” 

“Because--” Xefros cut himself off, shooting his hands from his head and into the air, motioning wildly before himself. “Nevermind!” He spoke with a raised tone and turned to leave alongside Sollux and Aradia, who had started to walk out before the two of them. 

Karkat tried not to think about that at all and simply followed the three out into the hallway. He still had to answer Dave’s text; positively or negatively, he didn’t know yet, but silence would’ve been unforgivable. The big thing, though, was that he didn’t know if breaking it off with Dave would actually be beneficial for him. He had a feeling that it would, and logic pointed to that as well, but making a decision rooted in reason to deal with someone else’s feelings didn’t seem right. It actually seemed pretty backwards, but to know that for sure he’d have to discuss this with Dave, which he really didn’t want to do. He didn’t want Dave to ever know that he was considering this at all unless he was certain that he’d go through with it. He couldn’t speak with Dave, but couldn’t make a definite decision without speaking to Dave, and would have to reach some sort of agreement here with himself before lunch break was over, so drastic measures must’ve been taken, and quickly, too. 

He excused himself to the bathroom before reaching the food court. No one but Xefros seemed to really mind that. 

“Are you meeting with him?” Xefros asked, eyes wide and manic. It almost scared Karkat off. “Are you running off to meet with Dave right now?” 

“No, dude; I’m literally just going to the bathroom. Chill.” 

Xefros didn’t seem to have believed that but didn’t insist on it, either. He simply stared, resigned, and turned back around, completely engulfed within his own thoughts. The other two trolls watching the scene exchanged a glance before Aradia took Xefros’ elbow and pulled him to continue on walking toward the food court. 

“C’mon, Xefros. You really need to sit down.” 

The three left as Karkat deviated from the path and walked into the closest bathroom available, which, to his good fortune, just happened to be empty. He locked himself into a stall, the furthest one from the door, and fished out his phone. Calling Dave to discuss this wasn’t an option, and he didn’t have a moirail to confide in, either, so his choices were limited. He couldn’t call either of the tree trolls that he had  _ just _ talked to, obviously, or that would’ve been weird and would’ve tipped him off to Xefros’ crazy ass, which pretty much left him with either Dammek or Eridan. Eridan was very clingy; they had had some awkward shuffling around each other in the past that had almost made them friends, but he had soon realized to not have been cut out to deal with Eridan. Eridan was a lot. He alone was already too much, barely even able to carry his own baggage, much less somebody else’s, so, no. Calling Eridan wasn’t a good idea. Now, realistically speaking, he’d never call Dammek, either, but the guy was missing and probably not answering his phone, which pushed him to make the call anyway only to reach voicemail and say that he tried. If anything, chickening out in the middle of it could be passed off as a concerned friend worrying after the dude. 

A few rings later and he was redirected to voicemail, as anticipated. Good; he was officially out of people to call. Scrolling down his contacts list, and passing Dave’s name over and over without the guts to tap on it, he received another text. 

_ karkat?  _

A single word followed by a question mark that made his heart shoot itself out of his chest. He had to answer this; Dave was probably waiting for him out here, at the building, somewhere. He ran a hand through his hair and tapped on Dirk’s contact instead. It was the only one left, even if Dirk wasn’t a viable option or a good choice; he wasn’t thinking, acting quickly out of sheer pressure, and grasping at straws to save himself, comparable to when he had called Dirk last afternoon. Strike two.

“Karkat?” 

For a moment, he thought that Dave’s text had been read out loud by a deep and disembodied voice. It had been the intonation of Dirk’s tone actually expressing mild confusion for the first time. 

“Hey, I need you to help me with something.” 

It should’ve been weird just how comfortable he felt saying that to an impressively intimidating person who he had met just a few days ago and who probably didn’t even like him a lot. He was a handful, and nobody liked people like that, especially when they passed some of that baggage onto strangers to carry, which was exactly what he had been doing ever since meeting Dirk. 

“Are you in legal trouble again?” 

Dirk didn’t sound very surprised or vexed; his voice was back to being an extension of his emotionless and stale personality. 

“No, not legal, just regular trouble this time.” 

“I’ll choose to address that as an improvement. What is it?” 

That put a leap to his heartbeat. 

“Well, you know Dave, right? Like, you two are pretty close.” 

“We’re not all that close, but sure.” 

“Has he ever talked to you about me?” 

He was treading into personal territory now and hoped that Dirk wouldn’t shut him out completely for not being in the position to rightfully ask this. 

“Yeah, but we don’t do that at length. I probably know more about you from you, actually.” 

“Right… Still, though, I want your opinion on something. It doesn’t have to be a very schooled one, I guess, just what you honestly think based on what you know about Dave.” 

His pulse quickened again, running ice through his veins. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay, so, do you think, uh, do you think Dave would be better off without me? Like, because, I think I’m butchering his perfect life by being there. He’s been having to deal with a lot of shit ever since meeting me, and, you know? I’m really not worth the trouble. We might be better broken up.” 

His hand gripped the phone tighter, his heartbeat reverberating through the skin of his chest. He felt pathetic saying all of this, being so damn sincere with a person who didn’t know him at all, when Dave was the one who deserved to hear this more than anybody else. The way that he was going about it was all backwards, and not fruitful or good, but he couldn’t very well regret the only option available to him, regardless of how unhelpful it might’ve been. It was a shot in the dark, but the only one that he had left to take. 

Dirk’s short, contemplative silence made him hold back a scream. 

“Look, Karkat, I think this is a self-worth issue, because, from what I’ve had him tell me, you’re so worth the trouble that he doesn’t even consider getting hit in the face, or, whatever, trouble, only happenstance. To him, it’s like you exist outside of what’s been going on around the two of you, so if you break up with him over a manufactured idea in your head, he’d be lost trying to find some correlation in your leap in logic. If that doesn’t point exactly to how he feels about you, then I’d suggest a trip down to an ophthalmologist to open your fucking eyes.” 

He blinked. 

“Are you saying he likes me?” 

“Yes, I believe that was made very clear. If you think yourself so immaterial to the composition of his happiness to the point of considering a breakup as means of clearing an obstruction, then he’s failed to reassure your importance in his life.” 

“Huh. So I shouldn’t break up with him, then.” 

“Not for that reason alone. If you would, however, personally benefit from it, then do it anyway.” 

No, that would actually have been the worst self-inflicted pain imaginable. In the past couple of weeks, Dave had grown very dear to him to the point of affecting his everyday life without even being present all the time, and he honestly wouldn’t be able to break up with him without viciously dying on the inside. If pushing Dave away wouldn’t make things better for him, and would hurt him instead, then Karkat would never go through with it. He’d never be able to forgive himself, and, anyway, the point wasn’t to hurt Dave, it was to save him. It was to spare him of getting hurt. From what Dirk had said, breaking up with Dave would’ve been counterproductive to that thought. Karkat exhaled. 

“Alright. Thank you, Dirk. This really helped me a lot.” 

“Anytime, and, just so you know, Dave’s life is far from perfect. It’s actually a lot more comparable to a show of horrors where you and I are two of the very few nice attractions.” 

He frowned. Was Dave in trouble? Had he been going through something that Karkat didn’t know? Huh. He felt like an asshole for not knowing, or asking about it, or even have noticed that something had been off this entire time, and he had just been making it worse. Alternatively, Dave might’ve been very good at hiding any discomfort from him, but that still didn’t excuse the fact that he hadn’t even thought to ask after Dave’s life in the first place, to know how things were doing. Not once. He really was made of garbage. 

“Is something going on with him?” 

“That’s not for me to answer.” 

Yeah, that was fair. He nodded to himself in response to it. 

“Okay, well, thank you for everything, and I really mean everything. You’ve been a great help when you didn’t have to.” 

“I told you I’m on your side, remember? This is what I’m here for.” 

His chest felt warm. He hadn’t heard someone say that to him in a long time, and it was nice to hear it; it put a small smile on his face and hope in his heart that, maybe, the humans’ side wasn’t so bad. Maybe Dirk was a valuable asset against the terrors of the world and anything that personally affected or threatened him. So far, Dirk had saved him from the Law and had helped him sort out his own thoughts, to see the path that would protect Dave instead of attack him, which was what he had accidentally been doing this entire time, all of which made Dirk a very powerful, very influential figure to have in one’s orbit. Karkat wondered if those attributes were inherent to the human race, or if Dirk was just different from the rest. 

“Thank you.” He repeated, with more emotion this time, before bidding Dirk farewell and hanging up. He breathed in once, deeply, and exhaled it all; he was good to do this. He’d meet up with Dave for lunch and  _ not _ break up with him today. 

If that was really the path that he’d take, to stay with Dave, then they’d have to start going about this differently, because he couldn’t do this nameless and occasional thing that they had anymore. It was awkward, weird and had no rules, which ended up with both of them not knowing what to do, how to act, or what was appropriate and what wasn’t, and how close could they act around each other in public, and how close could they be behind closed doors, and were they really something, could they see other people, did this mean nothing? Did all of this just not mean anything? They were from two clashing cultures, sure, but that didn’t make a commonground impossible to find. They could come to an agreement about this, and could put a title to the both of them in relation to one another. It shouldn’t have been difficult. The fact of the matter was that Karkat just wanted to know if they were real, if they were serious. If Dave was willing to commit. That was everything; simple, and complicated. 

He left the bathroom with phone in hand, intending to call Dave and have the two of them meetup closeby, but as he approached the path leading across the field toward the food court, that plan immediately became obsolete. Dave was right there, hanging around the front of their building, shifting his weight from foot to foot and actually seeming a little anxious, probably because Karkat hadn’t replied to him. Luckily, Dave was turned away, facing the building and with his back to Karkat, which allowed the opening for a surprise. He carefully walked over, making sure to remain outside of Dave’s peripheral while approaching, until he was close enough to surprise him. He could’ve gone for something cheesy and childish, like a jump on the back, but he choose to act cool and detached instead, which was something that Dave himself would’ve done in this scenario, probably. He stepped up to Dave’s side and simply leaned into his field of vision. 

“Hey.” 

Dave promptly turned around to face him, with brows lifted and a smile rounding his cheeks. He was adorable.

“Hey! Thanks for ghosting my texts and not getting back to me, man; that totally didn’t make me look a fool just now.” 

He grinned, taking Dave’s hand to pull him away from the open field. Not many people were hanging around outside at this hour, mostly huddled in the cafeteria to eat or quickly crossing campus with a right objective in mind or another, so they weren’t too out into the public eye, but, still. Last time that they had met up out into the open, nothing good had happened, and he was simply taking precautions right now. Dave easily followed him to the side of the building, to stand under the shade, hidden from view of the central path. 

“Sorry for wanting to surprise you.” 

“We both know that’s not the problem.” 

He smiled, shrugging it off. This particular issue of his wasn’t worth discussing at the moment; they had hotter irons in the fire.

“I actually want to talk to you about something.” 

Dave’s brows raised behind the shades. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, um.” He honestly shouldn't have been nervous about this. His quickly increasing heart rate was very distracting. “We have something at this point, right? There’s something going on between us, I mean, last Saturday is proof enough of that.” 

“Right.” 

“So, do we have a name for it?” 

His entire face felt warm, but he tried to ignore it. Maybe Dave wouldn’t notice it through those dark aviator lenses. 

“I guess not but we can come up with something, if you want.” 

“No, I don’t want to come up with anything. I just want to know what this is.” 

Dave hesitated, and he didn’t know what that meant, if it was a good pause or if it indicated some sort of disinclination from Dave’s part. He couldn’t tell with the shades hiding most of Dave’s face. 

“I think, so far, we’ve just been kind of figuring each other out, you know? There isn’t a name yet, ‘cause we’re not sure if this is going anywhere.” 

He frowned, his heart skipped a beat. The possibility of their involvement not amounting to anything was what had him terrified of jumping into the deep waters and, instead, had him only dipping his feet in. If what they had been building only served to have been discontinued and fallen into oblivion, then he didn’t even want to have started it in the first place. 

“You don’t think we’ll get anywhere?” He paused, feeling the deep creases between his brows. “Is this all just a hobby to you or something?” 

“No, that’s not what I mean; I’m saying I don’t know what you want. I’ve just been enjoying the ride, I guess, not really thinking about the future myself. Just, you know, going along with whatever it is that you want.” 

He supposed that they both have been purposefully avoiding discussing the nature of their relationship in fear of any upsetting news that awaited them down the road, all the while he silently freaked out about it this entire time, unable to clear his thoughts from it any time they got too close. Incidentally, Dave’s easygoing attitude reminded him of Xefros.

“What do you want, Dave?” 

“Whatever you want.” 

“No. Give me a real answer.” 

Dave shrugged. 

“I want to be with you, you know that.” 

“Sure, but how committed are you to keep that going?” 

Dave shook his head. Karkat didn’t know what that fucking meant and it pissed him off. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re asking me but I think I know what you’re getting at.” 

“So what’s your answer?” 

“Uh, obviously I’ll shape up and, you know, I’ll do what I need to keep you around.” 

His heart made for his throat. 

“Then, will you…” The question couldn’t make it out of his mouth. His heart was beating so fast that it almost made him dizzy, his body was very suddenly warm and his hands closed themselves in fists to keep from shaking. It didn’t help. “Will you, uh, will, can we, can we--” He cut himself off, swallowing pieces of jumbled up sentences and words down with the rest of his confusing thoughts. He was the worst at this. His pulse was loud in his ears and the world was starting to slip away from grasp; he was falling, vertigo had him by the wrist. He had never asked anyone out before. 

“Do you want me to be your boyfriend?” Dave asked. His smooth voice pulled Karkat back from the abyss. 

“No.” He blurted out, thoughtless and stupid. “I want you as my matesprit.” 

In his right state of mind, he’d never have been able to say that to anyone roaming this planet, let alone associate Dave, the human with his depressingly vacant quadrants, but there it was; his real, one-hundred percent genuine wishes right in Dave’s face, pushing his brows up from behind the aviators to his forehead. Dave didn’t say anything right away, and the silence sped up his already worryingly quick heartbeat. Blood pulsed on his face as well as loud in his ears. He was suspended in limbo. 

“Okay.” Dave said simply, with an impassive tone that showed just how precisely he could control his emotions, to the point of accepting Karkat’s advances and not immediately freaking out right now. 

Two feet away, Karkat could’ve fainted. Wind escaped his lungs and the world turned jet black for half a second. 

“Really?” The word left him sounding to have been on the brink of breaking, or of crying, which wasn’t too far from the truth, either. He could barely believe his own ears. 

“Yeah, you’ll just have to tell me what that means.” 

Oh. Dave didn’t know about matespritship, of course. Of course he didn’t; why would he? Karkat cleared his throat. Raw adrenaline still roamed about in his veins even if the excitement from a second ago had started to come down a little bit. 

“It’s, um, it’s a form of red courtship. Just means we like each other a lot in a constructive way, as opposed to kismesissitude.” 

Talking about this with a human felt like a hallucination. Before him, Dave slowly nodded. 

“Alright. What’s--”

“Don’t ask me what kismesissitude is.” 

Dave shut his mouth. 

He exhaled and ran a hand down his face, feeling his heart rate finally start to resume normalcy, or at least hint at it. He sighed, long and deep, and dropped his shoulders. Somehow, he hadn’t realized just how tense they had grown in the span of a minute. 

“Matespritship is a strong commitment that you don’t have to go through unless you absolutely want to, Dave.” 

He didn’t even know if humans were emotionally structured to handle this, or if they could correctly grasp the concept of it, so he supposed that they would find the answers to that together, if Dave decided to commit regardless. This was probably not advised within trollkind and highly despised in the human community, but he didn’t care. If he had to make the mistake of fitting a human in one of his quadrants to finally realize that he shouldn’t be romantically involving himself with the human race, then he’d learn this the hard way. Dave was worth the risk of more than just a broken heart. 

“Yeah, I said I’ll do it.” 

He blinked. Dave was either a huge dumbass or a perfect genius. Karkat had a feeling that, somehow, he was both. His heart skipped a beat.

“So…” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

The question made his cheeks warm. Without answering verbally, but with a smile on his face, he stepped into Dave’s personal space and met him halfway. 


	10. Matespritship: commence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fixed some of the tags in the description because of all the violence, wounds and blood. There's more of that below.

Dave’s hand was warm on his palm. He gripped it loosely, not anxious about where they stood anymore and unafraid of Dave’s sincere feelings for him, now that they were both on the same page with each other, and Dave was his official matesprit. He didn’t know if this would actually work, especially considering just how alien Dave was to quadrants and the way that they worked, the way that they were supposed to make him feel, the kind of response that they should get from him, but Karkat decided that overthinking this would be counterproductive, as it usually was with most things, and avidly tried  _ not _ thinking about it at all. He’d only think of how much he liked Dave and how Dave liked him, too. That was all. Whether this would work or not, and whether it made him an official trophy troll or not didn’t matter at the moment. In fact, he didn’t care to know a single thing about that as long as nothing between the two of them ever changed. 

Walking out from under the shade cast by the Music building, they started to approach the main path that quite literally crossed the entirety of campus and looped back around to the beginning, where Xefros happened to be standing, facing them with big and vacant eyes. Karkat absently paused his walking, staring back at his friend while something cooled the depths of his chest and banged on the back of his head. He hadn’t kept an eye on Xefros at all, and hadn’t managed to spare a moment to calm him down with reassuring words, either, not to mention that he had outright lied about running off to go and meet with Dave before lunch, which probably only made this more awkward. He lifted a hand up in surrender to apologize to his friend, but didn’t get the chance to; Xefros’ behavior changed in a split second. He went from passively staring paralyzed in place to running in their direction at top speed, brows knit and red eyes burning with rage. The sight stunned Karkat so thoroughly that he wasn’t able to physically react to it other than having his eyes widen and his wind seized. 

Xefros charged for Dave, connected with his midriff and pushed him into the ground. Luckily, Dave’s reaction time was better than Karkat’s, and he managed to bend his knees, brace both arms around Xefros’ shoulders, and soften the fall. He hit the ground on his back and immediately had Xefros gripping his throat with both hands a second later, viciously strangling him. At this point, Karkat had snapped out of his shock and hurried to the two of them, shouting for Xefros to let go while taking both of his shoulders and pulling him back. That only served to worsen Xefros’ emotional state an incredible amount, though, pissing him off to the point of making him scream and  _ something _ emanate from all around him; a sort of explosive energy field that had Karkat flying ten feet back and hitting the ground hard on his head. 

His vision turned black for a second and his skull pounded. He didn’t know that psychic trolls had that kind of ability, or had he imagined it? He slowly pushed himself off of the ground, glancing at where Xefros and Dave murdered each other into the dirt. The world spun violently as he got up to his feet, trying his best to be quick about this so maybe he’d get to the fight in time to save Dave from demise, but he could barely stand, and his entire body hurt. All he could do while clumsily walking over was shout for Xefros to stop, over and over, watching that be ignored as Xefros slashed at Dave and Dave strangled him in return. It was a scary and upsetting thing to see; it flashed an image before his very eyes of both of his really good friends dead by each other’s hands. His blood cooled and he shouted for Dave to let go, too. This was a nightmare.

From out of nowhere, a hooded figure quickly approached the scene and knocked Xefros unconscious, either with their fist or with something concealed in their hand. Karkat couldn’t see a lot from where he stood, only that the figure had horns and managed to toss Xefros’ limp form across their shoulders with admirable ease. He watched, standing uselessly in place, as the mysterious troll carried Xefros off on fast legs and strong shoulders, across the field and into the women’s restroom. This whole scene had been so absurd that Karkat sincerely wondered if he was high right now. 

“What the fuck.” Dave grunted from the ground, catching Karkat’s attention. The best portion of his white and red record shirt had blood all over it and Karkat paralyzed. His heart was going off erratically at the sight, dropping his pressure and pushing him to close the remaining distance between himself and Dave with two wide strides. He kneeled down next to Dave with a three day old déjà vu coming back to him at full swing. 

“Oh, shit, what did he do to you?” 

Dave didn’t answer, only groaned while pushing himself from the ground with debilitating difficulty. Karkat helped him up by the arm, gripping where blood hadn’t drenched it with the assumption that that spot hadn’t been harmed. Dave didn’t show any further discomfort from this, so he supposed to have been right about it. This time around, Dave didn’t fight him off, but accepted the aid and walked with him toward the closest buildings that surrounded them and this little patio. 

“Fuck, Dave, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I let this happen.” 

“No, it’s not your fault. I mean, I don’t know what you’ve been telling your friends about me, but they all seem to fucking hate me for some reason.” 

“They, well, they don’t really know you and I honestly don’t know what the fuck is up with Xefros today. He’s been acting weird since breakfast but I didn’t think he’d flip his shit at nothing.” 

Dave shook his head, adding nothing else to that. He had a hand firmly clasped over the portion of his upper arm closest to the inside of his elbow this entire time, holding onto it so strongly that his knuckles were white under the blood splatters on his hands. The amount of red that soaked his shirt through was concerning. 

“I think you should go to a hospital.” He suggested through the trembling of his lips and the shaking of his own hands. Seeing Dave bleed out so much enveloped his lungs in panic. 

Dave shook his head. 

“No, I’m fine. I can handle it.” 

Dave crossed the field to a faculty bathroom and walked right in, careless to anyone who might see them break into it or bleed to unconsciousness. They were lucky that this happened during lunch break, otherwise people might’ve witnessed it, and reported all of the trolls in the scene. Karkat had no idea why Xefros had randomly been standing there in the middle of the path, seemingly doing nothing, or why he so suddenly attacked Dave with the intent to kill, baring his claws and blowing up with psionic energy, not holding back in the slightest. From what Karkat knew, Xefros was the weakest physic troll of the bunch, which didn’t explain what had happened. Maybe his potential was higher than what had been supposed of him. 

Dave locked the bathroom door, hung his backpack on the handle and peeled his shirt off overhead, using it as a makeshift tourniquet around his upper arm to stop the bleeding, or, at least, lessen it. The bathroom was decently lit, and the white ceiling lights highlighted the vibrant, shiny red of Dave’s blood that covered the entirety of his left arm by now, slowly pouring out from the wound closest to his elbow, the one that he had been clutching to this entire time. He unzipped his bag, rummaged through it, pulled a small bottle and took the pills that it contained. Karkat stood around uselessly, watching with wide eyes as Dave pulled a first aid kit from the depths of his bag and moved over to the sink, taking a seat by it on the counter. With the kit lying out of the way, he turned on the tap and washed his arm, his hands, cleaning out the excess blood to properly assess his injuries. The four gashes on his upper arm had very obviously been caused by Xefros’ nails, sharp enough to cut through human skin as if it was paper, and pushed in rather deep, too. Karkat felt his hands go numb and his legs stand weird; he leaned onto the wall behind himself, listening to Dave hiss through his teeth from the cold water on his open wounds. 

Dave turned the tap off, dried his hands and moved to access the kit resting beside himself. He took out a lighter, needle, some thread, and Karkat turned away. He couldn’t look; his blood pressure was low enough already. He covered his eyes with a hand and rested his forehead onto the wall, letting it cool down on the tiles. His other hand assisted his own balance by gripping onto the corner of the counter, since his legs weren’t doing a very good job of that. He inhaled once, deeply, and tried not to hate Xefros too much. This probably wasn’t Xefros’ fault, really; he was a good and compliant troll who could never lash out like that unless put under extreme conditions to test his own sanity,  _ probably _ attributed to Dammek, at Karkat’s best guess. The guy had chosen to play the dramatic tragedian this morning in order to get flooded with everyone’s attention without thinking twice about how his moirail would’ve reacted to his stupid performance, and this had been the result of it. What a fucking idiot, honestly. Karkat exhaled with raised shoulders and a crease in his brows and immediately breathed in again, attempting to become less pissed off this time around. 

Going off on a small tangent here, he wondered who that mysterious troll had been, that had knocked Xefros out cold and dragged him away with very little effort. He hadn’t been able to see their face because of the hood, and their horns had been pretty generic, too, which rendered them unidentifiable. It could’ve been anyone. He’d have to find this person later today to thank them for saving Dave’s life, though. Exhaling, he made a mental note to look for them at 27-A after class. Maybe, if Xefros were around at all, he could ask him after this person. That, of course, if he happened to be in a more mentally stable condition by then. Karkat sincerely hoped so, because he had more than just questions about the mysterious troll; he wanted to know what had been going on between his friend and Dammek and if he should intervene. The auspisticism that he had willingly walked out from weighed in his conscience now. 

Turning back around just a little bit, he glanced at Dave over his shoulder. Dave had his head down and the shades up, out of his eyes, while concentrating on stitching his arm back together. Luckily, his hand was in front of his work from this angle, and Karkat couldn’t really see anything past a streak of blood running down Dave’s forearm and a loose end of the thread hanging from the needle. This was perilous, so he decided to watch Dave’s face instead; his set jaw and furrowed brows and how used he seemed to this, how unimpressed he was at stitching his own skin closed. Just the fact that he had an entire first aid kit in his backpack really said something about this kind of situation, which he apparently found himself in pretty often. Karkat wondered if the scar just below his ribs had been stitched up by himself, too, and if it had a similar story to what had just happened. He gave Dave’s upper body a glance over, looking at all the small scars fading out from his clear skin and how most of them seemed to be on his arms; he only had one or two on his stomach, a couple on his chest, and… Karkat turned around entirely. Were those fingerprints on his neck? So Xefros had strangled him more furiously than it had seemed. That brought forth a fire in the pits of Karkat’s gut that closed his hands in fists and knit his brows together. Jesus, what was Xefros’ fucking problem? 

“Did you hit him back?” 

At the question, Dave passed him a brief glance, first at his face, then at his tight fists. Showcasing no emotion in response to that, the reds refocused down at Dave’s work. 

“Not much.” 

Dave brought the needle up to tug on the thread, to test the firmness of the suture, and Karkat quickly glanced off to the side again, suddenly queasy, as if just reminded of what Dave had been doing this entire time. He couldn’t fucking watch this. 

“Did he hurt you too bad?” He asked through the light heaving of his chest and the dropping of his pressure. He felt his face go pale. 

“Honestly? Yeah, he did. I don’t know what’s with your friends and anger fucking management because it’s like they just don’t give a shit about it.” 

Dave sounded really pissed off and it was very off putting to hear this sort of anger coming from someone who always kept their composure despite everything. It was clear that the attack had gotten to him past a mere physical level. Karkat felt bad for what had just transpired, ashamed on behalf of his friends as if Dave were giving him a personal scolding for his own actions; as if it had been his fault at all. It wasn’t his responsibility to babysit his friends’ anger management issues, though it was up to him to keep Dave safe and away from them. He had been trying to do that by pulling Dave off to the side, hidden beside the building, but had failed spectacularly and in the strangest way, too, because Xefros just wasn’t supposed to have been there. He wasn’t supposed to have seen the two of them together after Karkat had blatantly lied to him. Karkat ran a hand through his own hair, having his face pack some color now. 

“I’m sorry.” 

In his peripheral, Dave shook his head. 

“Don’t apologize for what wasn’t your fault.” 

He leaned back onto the wall, keeping his eyes down and feeling his face heat up with shame. He felt really fucking useless now. Incidentally, that exact choice of words made Dave sound a lot like his brother, which only helped further Karkat’s chagrin. If Dirk had been here mere moments ago, Karkat was sure that he would’ve murdered Xefros on sight. That thought wasn’t a particularly good one to have. 

About ten minutes later, Dave was done suturing his upper arm and pinching the back of his forearm together with Steri-Strips. Although Dammek had packed more of a punch last time, Xefros had very obviously exceeded in regards to murderous intent and life-threatening damage this time around. Dave had bled so much that the sink was a mess, his hands and arm were colored dark red and his shirt was practically ruined. Last time, he had only gotten a couple of bruises on his face and an elbow brace, which he still wore hidden under sleeves, not stitches and blood loss. His elbow must’ve gotten better by now if he had been able to use that arm to handle a needle, though. Karkat watched him remove the tourniquet, slide off of the counter, onto his feet, and proceed to put his things away, clean up a bit after himself. The stitches looked very neat and tidy, almost as if done by a professional. Dave really did know what he had been doing. 

“Dave, please don’t be mad at Xefros; it wasn’t his fault. He’s really not like that. Something must’ve happened to him to make him do it.” 

Dave shook his head, placing everything back into the first aid kit and removing a roll of gauze from it. 

“Whatever, I don’t give a fuck about Xefros. I just don’t want to see any of your friends ever again.” 

Dave’s tone was sharp and it cut right through Karkat’s heart easier than claws on skin. A lump formed in his throat in response to it, but he just nodded through it, not arguing with that. The idea of angering Dave was a particularly upsetting one.

“Okay.” 

He stopped himself from apologizing again. 

Dave bandaged the stitches with the sort of practice that lit something up in the back of Karkat’s mind, a concern for the reason that he carried all of this stuff with him everyday, that he knew how to suture wounds near-professionally and wrap himself up with ease. He watched Dave twist his arm around to appraise the back of his forearm, probably wondering whether bandaging the Steri-Strips was really necessary. The forearm wounds were three gashes not nearly as deep as the upper arm ones, but that were also very obviously the work of Xefros’ claws. He hadn’t been fucking around when he attacked Dave, and Karkat wished that he hadn’t almost been knocked unconscious from that energy blast that had hit him square on so he would’ve been able to help more, or at all. He wondered if Dave had felt it, too. He had never seen anyone do that before. 

“Do you do this a lot?” He asked, voice low, a little shy. Almost scared of Dave’s visible frustration at this whole thing. 

Dave didn’t spare him a glance, and started bandaging the Steri-Strips. 

“Not in a while.” 

He briefly remembered the first aid kit clutter in Dave’s bathroom cabinet and wondered if it was all him, not his brother. What was going on with him? 

“Do you get in trouble a lot?” 

“I used to, in middle and high school. Didn’t think this shit would happen in college, too.” 

Surely, he didn’t have trolls hunting him down for his involvement with a troll in school, so it must’ve been something else, unrelated to any of this. Karkat tried to recall one of their first conversations, back when they had lunch at that Subway a few weeks ago, when Dave had told him about some of his high school days, something about rejecting a girl to the dance and getting off with a friend. On his bed, wasn’t it?, while talking about random topics that didn’t correlate to what they were doing at all. That must’ve been nice; muffling Dave’s story on his lips with a hand down his pants, listening to how well he coordinated his thoughts despite his breathy words and red cheeks. Shit, focus; this wasn’t the point. This wouldn’t help right now. Had Dave ever even mentioned fighting anyone in school, though? He honestly couldn’t recall. Maybe he hadn’t, or it would’ve made an impression, Karkat was sure. 

Dave finished fixing himself up and put the gauze away, clicked the kit closed. He opened the faucet right after, to wash off some of the dried up blood from the sink bowl, and turned to put the kit away in his backpack. Strangely enough, his back was clear, with no scars or bruises on it. For someone who apparently got jumped a lot in high school, those kids didn’t seem to have left a mark that wasn’t immediately within Dave’s sight. That train of thought had some gears turning in Karkat’s brain, but he didn’t let it reach the station just yet. He had another stop to make first. 

“Have you ever been to a hospital?” He asked, because maybe Dave had learned how to care for himself by watching numerous doctors do it. 

Dave shook his head, keeping quiet. No such luck, huh. That was strange for someone who, allegedly, had kids fighting him all the time when he was younger. Karkat wouldn’t judge, though; maybe Dave’s family didn’t have a lot of money, or any healthcare, and couldn’t afford sending their kid to the hospital for every little thing. Plus, maybe he had learned how to properly suture a wound somewhere else, like, from a family member or even from Dirk himself. Hadn’t Dirk said that Dave was a particularly non-violent person, though? It didn’t make sense that he was so frequently involved in high school confrontations, then, if that was truly the case. But if he didn’t get jumped all the time, where had all of his scars come from, and how was he so jaded to stitching himself up? Nothing about him really had Karkat able to put two and two together; it was more like a two and a three trying to add to a ten. 

Karkat watched Dave pick his shirt up from the counter and turn it around in his hands, frowning down at the ripped sleeves and the bloodied fabric. He couldn’t possibly wear that outside, not without raising suspicion, so Karkat unzipped his hoodie and slipped it off. It was probably a little small for Dave, even if not by much, but it was better than nothing, and decidedly better than his ruined shirt. He offered it to Dave, who raised a brow at the action, but didn’t exactly oppose it. Dave threw his shirt into the bag and accepted the hoodie from Karkat. 

“What will you do about your neck?” 

His question had Dave giving him a confused look in return while shrugging the hoodie on, then turning to glance at himself in the mirror. He brought a hand up to the bruises marking his clear skin, watching his own reflection on the meanwhile and clicking his tongue at it. 

“Shit.” 

He guessed Dave hadn’t really been able to see that before. Dave zipped the hoodie up halfway, obviously dissatisfied with the bruise but ultimately unable to do anything about it, and moved on to glancing himself down. The cuffs ended less than an inch before his wrists and the hem just about covered the waistband of his pants, which made Karkat believe that it could’ve been worse. The hoodie was two sizes too small for him, at most, but didn’t look all that bad. No one that didn’t stop to really look at him would notice anything wrong with it, probably. 

“I look like a homeless person who wears hand-me-downs.” 

“No, you don’t. You look like one of those rich kids who wear ridiculous things to start new fashion trends, and it works because they’re pretty.” 

Dave scoffed out a small laugh, curving the corners of his lips upwards. He really was something else. He zipped up his bag and threw it over his shoulder before leaving the bathroom entirely, with Karkat in tow. To their luck, nobody really seemed to have noticed the faculty sign on the door behind them, or the fact that they had both exited the bathroom together. Karkat took Dave’s hand and walked with him to the main path, toward the cafeteria, but stopped at the sight that greeted them from here; in the distance, dozens of trolls had just started leaving the building, and were on their way back to class. He supposed that lunch break was over and they had missed it. Turning to Dave, he pushed him out of the main path again, and into the shade. 

“I’ll owe you lunch, just tell me that you’ll be okay.” 

Dave nodded in response, face perfectly stoic behind the shades. 

“I’ll be fine, but if I see your friends again, Karkat…” 

A third encounter would probably have Dave dead. 

“You won’t, I promise. Cross my heart.” 

Dave said nothing in reply to that, simply stared into his face, he assumed, before leaning down to meet with his mouth in a parting kiss. It was supposed to be brief, sure, he knew that, but still couldn’t stop himself from grabbing onto Dave’s jaw and holding him down for just a second longer, meeting with his lips again, soft and heartfelt. The first few minutes of their matespritship might’ve been truly disastrous and had almost cost Dave’s life, but it didn’t dictate the future of their relationship. This, what had just happened, didn’t mean much. They were going to be fine as long as his friends stopped inserting themselves between the two of them with their fucked up ideals and idiotic morals and just let them be. Karkat would cut ties with all of them for that to happen, if necessary. If they really happened to be that fucking dense. 

As the kiss broke apart, he realized that he wouldn’t mind doing this every time that they bid each other goodbye. It made their parting a little bit sweeter. Dave flashed him a smile before backing out of his personal space, and making to leave. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow in class, then. Tell your friends I got the message and I’ll sit away from them from now on.” 

“Can I sit with you?” 

Dave’s dashing smile brightened a little bit. 

“Of course.” 

He wanted to kiss that face again and, hey, he could, so he did. He grabbed Dave’s neck and pulled him down for another one, meeting smile with grin and filling his chest with warmth. In all honesty, matespritship wasn’t all that bad. 

Back in class, both Aradia and Sollux had strange looks on their faces, and constantly glanced back and forth at each other every other minute, but said nothing past what could be read without words. That didn’t help Karkat figure anything out, because moirails spoke in customized code to which nobody else had the dictionary to, but considering the fact that Xefros wasn’t here, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume that their looks referred to that. If Karkat had to guess, though, Xefros was probably still in that women’s restroom with the mysterious troll who had saved Dave’s life and prevented a catastrophe from breaking out on both ends. If the mysterious troll still were around at all. Karkat needed to speak with them. 

Xefros came back a single period before class ended, with vacant eyes and wobbly steps. He crossed the classroom and took his usual seat, one chair down from Aradia and the rest, and stayed perfectly still in place, so calm and unmoving that it concerned Karkat. Only a few hours ago, Xefros had been a ball of anxiety and restlessness, and, now, he looked more suited to fill a casket than most corpses out there. He literally looked dead inside, and if he hadn’t been acting so worryingly strange all day, and if he hadn’t scared Karkat with such sudden violence completely uncharacteristic of him, making Karkat reconsider everything that he  _ thought _ that he knew about Xefros, then maybe Karkat would’ve taken the empty seat by Xefros and talked with him, asked after him. As it was, though, Karkat was more than just a little apprehensive to start anything with this guy. Aradia seemed to be the only one brave enough to actually lean over and speak with Xefros, but she whispered, and Karkat couldn’t hear their conversation from here. He didn’t mind that and made no effort to overhear anything; he stayed in his seat until class was dismissed. 

“I heard Gamzee got worse.” Sollux casually mentioned in the bus, during the ride back. He was one row ahead, clearly speaking with Aradia, but Karkat leaned forward anyway, and poked his curious nose into this. Of course he would. 

“Really?”

“Who told you that?” He interjected, causing the two up front to turn around and glance back at him. 

“ED did, said he saw Gamzee passed out yesterday and wasn’t surprised to not see him at practice this afternoon.” 

“Passed out where?” 

“Up in the penthouse. I guess they had a party this weekend, while we worried ourselves sick over you.” 

He blushed. 

“Sorry.” 

Realistically, he probably shouldn’t care, but it was difficult to stop caring about someone who used to be so close to him and who was currently spiraling down a pit of self-destruction, despite their disgusting history. That was months in the past at this point and, even if Karkat hadn’t really forgiven Gamzee yet, he still cared. A part of him, a vile part of him still cared. He really wished that he didn’t, but he couldn't help it; it wasn’t up to him. Whenever he heard Gamzee’s name, something inside of him always turned his blood cold and doubled the size of his eyes; attention perked, he listened in. He hated it. He wished he could just forget Gamzee entirely and think solely of Dave instead. Even if their respective quadrants didn’t correlate, fact was that they happened to share the lonely podium of Karkat’s single relationship at their time, and he really should’ve been getting over Gamzee by now. That was long due. 

At the building, he took the elevator up to the sixth floor. What was the room again? Ah, six-ten? Might’ve been six-ten. Glancing at every door lining both sides of the left hallway, it didn’t take long for him to reach room six-ten and knock on the door. If it happened to be the wrong one, he’d just ask the owner if they could point him to Gamzee. A while passed without reply, so he tried again. No response. Cutting the silence, he heard a murmur of laughter echoing from down the hall, where the highbloods lounged and chatted all night. He had forgotten about that place, and it had been where he had found Gamzee last time, so the probability of the guy being there right now was huge. He walked down, careful to not make too much noise, and peered in through the open arch. Multiple large horns, one bigger and longer than the other, a lot of hair and clown makeup, but no sign of Gamzee. He frowned and turned back, pulling out his phone on the meanwhile, to call and meet up since Gamzee didn’t seem to be around. Was he down in the basement, by chance? Could’ve been. He put the phone to his ear, stopping by six-ten for a minute. 

As the call rang, a very familiar ringtone played on the other side of the door, muffled by it, and chilling Karkat’s blood to the bone. 

“Gamzee?” He called, voice loud enough to be considered a shout indoors. “Gamzee, are you there?” 

The ringtone continued to no answer. His heart jumped; he slammed the door with a fist. 

_ “Gamzee?” _

Nothing. Oh, fuck, he was dead. He was dead. Gamzee lay dead in his room right now, oh, fuck, oh, fuck. He knew that this day would come, and he knew that he’d get there too late to prevent it. To save him. He banged on the door again, hyperventilating, suffocating. Gamzee was fucking dead.

_ “Gamzee!” _

The door suddenly opened, almost making him bump into the tall figure behind it. Gamzee was fine. He looked sleepy, and completely exhausted, but alive, and, overall, fine. As fine as skirting the line between overdose and medical drug use made him look like, which was half dead and lifeless, but technically still alive. Karkat breathed in deeply and the world went white for a split second. He wanted to fucking kill this dude. 

“Oh my God, Gamzee, you son of a bitch. Were you napping just now?” 

Gamzee blinked, slow, completely unresponsive to the question. Karkat snapped an exasperated two fingers in front of his face, but didn’t get a reaction out of that, either. The purple eyes before him stared straight through him, as if dissociating right into the next astral plane, while the body attached to them vegetated up on two feet. Karkat shook his head in vexation and pushed past his ex-moirail, walking into the room uninvited. He didn’t give a shit. Gamzee staggered from the shove, accidentally tripped over his own feet, lost his balance and crashed down onto his back. It was no wonder that his stupid clown shoes that were at least three sizes too big for him would have ever proven to have been a bad purchase. Who would’ve thought. 

“You really scared me, you asshole. I thought you were dead.” 

No response from the near-corpse lying on the ground. This felt as if speaking to a wall. He knelt down by Gamzee, rolling his eyes, and took a seat on the floor. The guy looked almost passed out and the carpet of his bedroom had empty plastic packages scattered all over it. What were these? Karkat picked one up and turned it around in his hand. Sticky remains of a blue liquid were retained in the corners of the package, which apparently had been ripped open in one side. He brought it up to his face and smelled it. Island Dreams? Was this a detergent pod? Were  _ all _ of these empty detergent pods? He turned to Gamzee, frowning, trying to picture him biting into all of these detergent pods and drinking fucking Island Dreams from them. What was his problem? Karkat slapped the side of his face a bit, trying to make him come to a little more, or at least leave this half-asleep state. 

“Gamzee, why are you eating detergent pods? Gamzee.” 

He slapped with a little bit more force now, but still not enough to hurt. 

“Don’t eat detergent pods. That’s such a weird thing to do. Why are you like this, dude? You didn’t use to be so weird, you used to be fine. You, well, you used to get high from sopor slime, which, admittedly, was pretty weird, too, but not  _ as _ weird. Like, I knew other people who also did that, specially the apatite girls, but, this? Detergent pods, really? Gamzee.”

He took the highblood’s chin and shook his head a bit, trying to get him to come to, but Gamzee’s eyes were just about rolling into the back of his head, as if slipping in and out of consciousness. Shit, how deadly were these detergent pods? He had eaten so many of them; Karkat didn’t even know that it was possible to get high from that, but he honestly wasn’t surprised to learn it. Had Gamzee just gone around eating anything? That was so fucking dangerous. Didn’t he care if these things killed him or not? Probably not. At this point, he must really not have cared. Karkat shook his head harder now, watching Gamzee’s eyes, seeing them roll back and close into unconsciousness. Oh, this was bad. This was really bad. He should probably take Gamzee to the basement just in case, so the Nurse could look after him and maybe prevent an overdose or something. He took Gamzee’s arm and got up on both feet, slung that arm across his own shoulders and tried hoisting Gamzee up to a semi-standing position, which ended up being a far more complicated task to do, because Gamzee was heavier than he looked to be. Either that, or Karkat was really just way smaller than his brain had led him to believe. His self-perception was worryingly altered. He tried pulling Gamzee up again, and again, and only once more, for good measure, before giving up and moving on to a better plan. 

If he couldn’t do this, then somebody else might’ve been able to; someone taller and stronger than him, like Dammek, who was missing, or Eridan, who lived just on the next floor up. He pulled his phone out and called the latter, asked him to come down because he needed help with something. He gave Eridan the room number and the sea dweller didn’t even question his existence near the penthouse; Eridan was just oblivious like that, which, honestly, was an attractive trait to have. What was better than not having one’s awkward intentions and purposes questioned by a dumbass? It saved time. Eridan showed up not too long after, in pajama pants and a tank top. Karkat honestly couldn’t feel bad for having interrupted the guy’s night. 

Seeing Gamzee passed out on the floor, Eridan paused halfway into the room and gave the scene a glance over. 

“Is he finally dead?” Eridan asked, insensitive as all Hell and with a mildly disgusted look on his face. Karkat wanted to hit him. 

“No, asshole, and if he were, at least  _ try _ to sound upset. He’s just out of it for now.” 

“Well, pardon me, Kar, but I don’t particularly feel any which way about him.” 

“I do, though, so be respectful and help me carry him down to the basement.” 

“Why?” 

“Because he’s  _ obviously _ in trouble, you thick-headed mussel! Do something!” 

Eridan gave him a disapproving and mildly annoyed look before reaching down and pulling Gamzee up by the arms, although not all the way, only to a sitting position. 

“I’ll help you, but I don’t appreciate the way you’re speakin’ to me, Kar. If you keep this up, I’ll think you’re flirtin’ with me.” 

“I’m offended that you think I’d ever consider you as anything more than an acquaintance.” 

Eridan breathed in deeply and hoisted Gamzee up across both of his shoulders, but not without some difficulty; that seemed to take visible effort, as evidenced by the violet of his face and the scowl in between his brows. He stood upright on both feet, bringing Gamzee’s unconscious body up as he did, and stepping off-center here and there to keep his own balance. Huffing, Eridan frowned down at Karkat. 

“Not even friends?” 

He sounded so heartbroken that Karkat felt bad for wanting to reply to that negatively. 

“Fine, friends, but just because you know Sollux.” 

“What’s the correlation?” 

He made to leave the room, so Eridan followed. 

“If you didn’t know him, you wouldn’t hang out with us sometimes, and I’d never go out of my way to befriend you. Our friendship is circumstantial.” 

Eridan pondered his answer as they crossed the hallway and stopped by the elevators. Karkat pressed the button. 

“So you only speak to me when I’m at the right place at the right time?” 

“Yeah, big surprise; you do the same thing to me. I don’t see you hanging out with us unless Sollux invites you over.” 

“I just don’t go on my own ‘cause I don’t feel like anyone really wants me there.” 

Karkat opened his mouth to say that yes, Eridan was absolutely right about that, but, glancing at Eridan’s face, he couldn’t go through with it; the words died right on his lips. Eridan was dramatic by nature, but the melancholy in his violets and the slight crease of his brow looked genuine, not exaggerated, which, for once, got to Karkat more than he’d like to admit it. It wasn’t his fault that Eridan was rude and annoying, consequently pushing people away, but he hadn’t very well tried to befriend the guy, either, so he wasn’t really innocent. He supposed that none of his friends were very innocent in this case, but there was nothing he could do to change that. He just shrugged, watching as the elevator arrived and slid its doors open for the two of them. 

“No one wants anyone around, Eridan; just do you without caring about what other people think about that.” He spoke while entering the elevator and having Eridan join him, worryingly weighing the chamber down with Gamzee’s weight added to his person. He ignored the danger signs of that and pressed the basement button. “Look, do you think I  _ like _ hanging out with Dammek? Do you think  _ anyone _ does? He’s a fucking asshole, man, and we all hate him, but that doesn’t stop him from still being there every single day.” 

Eridan grew pensive. 

“Are you sayin’ I should have breakfast with you guys tomorrow, then?” 

“I’m saying you should do whatever you want.” 

They were silent for the next three floors. 

“Do you like me at all?” 

His eyes closed and he sighed. Of course they were having this conversation, why wouldn’t they? It was all that Eridan thought of and talked about, almost as if he did nothing but obsess over whether or not people liked him in between breaks of his contemplations of loneliness. Karkat brought a hand to the bridge of his nose, then rubbed at his temples before turning to the highblood beside him. 

“Eridan, you seriously need to chill with this shit. I’m your friend, and so is everybody else that hangs out with Sollux. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Do you mean that?” 

“Yeah.” 

The elevator stopped. Eridan flashed him a heartfelt smile before walking out ahead, carrying Gamzee down the white hallways of the basement as he followed close behind. He hoped to not have put any funny ideas in Eridan’s head with that, about the two of them or the nature of their friendship, because having to reject Eridan a second time was really not how he planned to spend this Monday night. Neither was dragging an unconscious and possibly deceased ex-moirail into rehab, but here he was. 

This was the first time that he saw people in here besides himself and whoever that happened to accompany him; two trolls stood far into the hallway, close to one another by one of the walls, clearly not going anywhere, and probably just chatting off to the side. They watched as both Karkat and Eridan carried Gamzee a good dozen feet in before the Nurse appeared out of the blue, stepping out from a random door, as seemed to be her preferred method of approach. Karkat was only mildly surprised at her appearance, while Eridan nearly jumped into the air, never having been here before to expect it. The Nurse smiled tightly at the two of them, and reached an arm to the door that she had just come from, as if presenting it. 

“Hello, boys. Care to see your friend in here for me?” 

Shuddering, Eridan entered the room in question, with Karkat towing close behind. He placed Gamzee down onto the cot, not with too much care but just delicate enough, and exhaled a big sigh from deep within his lungs right after. Apparently, Gamzee was a lot heavier than he seemed to be. Karkat was glad to have called backup for this one. 

“Ah, Makara’s been due a visit for a while now. I’m glad to see him kicking still.” 

That comment had Karkat’s heart running ice through his veins. 

“Can you look after him, please? Make sure he’s, you know, not already dead. I’d really appreciate that.” 

At the request, the Nurse gave him a smile that almost made her look kind, almost made him feel safe around her, but that still was just unnerving enough to wave red flags all across his brain. 

“Of course, Vantas. He’ll be up by tomorrow morning.” 

“Can I come see him?” 

“I’m afraid visiting hours coincide with your classes, but you can look for him around campus at your own leisure.” 

That seemed particularly sketchy, but he wouldn’t argue with it. Getting on the Nurse’s bad side was the last thing that he’d do if he wanted to preserve his own life, so he just nodded, thanked her, and motioned for Eridan to follow him out. They both waved the Nurse goodbye before leaving side-by-side, passing a mindless glance at the couple down the hallway, and starting back to the elevator. 

“You’ve never been down here, have you?” He asked, trying to keep his voice down as not to have it echo all around. 

“No, and I never want to come back.” 

“Smart choice.” 

Outside, he decided to take the stairs up to his room, since it was only two floors up. He usually always took the stairs, anyway. 

“Hey, Eridan, thanks for doing this for me. You were a big help.” 

Standing by the elevator shaft, Eridan offered him a smile to go with his reply. 

“No problem.” 

“See you tomorrow for breakfast.” 

About halfway down the hall, and three doors before his dorm, he remembered Xefros, and how they bunked together. How was the guy doing by now, any better? He hadn’t had the courage to go and check on Xefros yet, or ask after the mysterious savior troll, or even care to know whether or not Dammek was back yet. He  _ should _ care about the guy, yeah, of course, what kind of soulless monster wouldn’t care about their friend’s sudden disappearance? Except he really couldn’t bring himself to feel an ounce of sympathy for the dude, especially not after what had happened between Dammek and Dave last Friday, or how Dammek had spoken of Dave last night. He was a major dick and could honestly choke, for all Karkat cared. Xefros, though. He sighed. Xefros didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve such an asshole for a moirail, or how much misfortune the guy always brought him. Dammek seemed to be a walking magnet of trouble and sorrow to all of those closest to him, and Xefros didn’t deserve to get caught in it. He deserved someone good who would love him within the boundaries of their assigned quadrant and who would put him first instead of themselves, as it should’ve been, and as it currently wasn’t. 

Xefros was obviously suffering right now and Karkat wished he wasn’t so afraid to help. He approached their bedroom door with quiet steps, careful to not make too much noise while turning the knob and pushing only a sliver open, just the enough to peek in, looking for any two figures a little too close to one another in the shadows. He peered through the crack, saw nothing but darkness, and entered the room. Either Xefros wasn’t here yet, or he was asleep in the top bunk. Karkat didn’t turn the lights on, just in case, closed the door very softly and proceeded to get ready for rest. 

He hoped Xefros was alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to the beach next week, so I probably won't be able to post a new chapter then, but I'm taking small Homestuck/Hiveswap requests [here](https://despairing-heart.tumblr.com/ask) on the meanwhile, so drop an ask! and have a great New Year. :)


	11. Closure, missing and found

Breakfast that morning was interesting. As promised, Eridan joined the others for it, surprising Sollux with an eye roll and a slightly sheepish look on his face, while Dammek made an appearance for the first time in twenty-four hours and Xefros, glued to his moirail’s side already, barely even spared a glance at Karkat’s general direction. He had absolutely no idea what was going on with his friend, but could bet his entire soul that it was Dammek’s fault somehow. Xefros had never acted so strange before, and it couldn’t have been a coincidence that he had gone completely batshit insane right when his moirail had gone missing for a day. Dammek had done something to that kid and Karkat was afraid to learn what it was. He watched as the couple went down the line with tray in hand and passed their table by without sitting on it, or even as much as acknowledging it. It honestly hurt to see that. 

“Why aren’t they sitting with us?” 

The question slipped out before his morale preservation tactics kicked in to save him from this embarrassing one. It really upset him, for no particular reason, to be ignored by Xefros, especially after what had happened yesterday, which he still didn’t understand. His eyes followed the two moirails down the cafeteria and over to a table by the corner, where two other trolls sat and talked. Judging by the way that one of them greeted Dammek, Karkat supposed that they knew each other somehow. Was Dammek ditching them for new, less confrontational friends? The thought sent a pang to Karkat’s heart. 

“Oh, they must’ve seen me.” Eridan responded, sounding a little morose and genuinely upset. Karkat could relate, though it definitely wasn’t Eridan’s fault. 

“You really think they give a shit about you?” Sollux interjected through a spoonful of grub sauce. If Karkat wasn’t so busy watching both Dammek and Xefros interact with two complete strangers as if they had known each other for decades, he’d have been disgusted by that. 

“It’s not you, Eridan. It’s me. Xefros…” He paused, recollecting himself and not allowing any emotion to show in his tone. “There was a fight yesterday, during break. Xefros jumped Dave for some reason, so he’s probably avoiding me right now, if I had to guess. I don’t know what the fuck is up with him, but I see that Dammek’s back, which means Xefros is probably back to normal, too.” 

“MM’s been back for a while, KK; guess you haven’t noticed, but he didn’t tell me anything about a fight. Did you see it? Like, were you there when it happened?” 

A slight crease formed between Karkat’s brows. If Sollux already knew of Dammek’s return before the guy actually showed face at the building, then the two must’ve kept in better touch than he would’ve thought. He had no idea that those guys were close at all. 

“Uh, yeah, I was. Xefros was fine one second, and attacking Dave the next. It was the weirdest thing ever and he hasn’t spoken to me since.” 

“Considering just how out of it he seemed yesterday, I don’t find that attack very surprising. I was almost expecting something of that caliber out of him, anyway, from the way he had been acting all day. He must’ve come across Dammek at some point and talked it out with him, though, because he looks far more normal now.” 

“Yeah, I agree with you, AA, but MM didn’t mention any of that to me last night; he just said that he took yesterday off to, uh, find himself, I think. Soul-searching is the term that he used, but I’m not sure what it means, or if it has anything to do with the fight at all.” 

“I feel like the fight happened because he wasn’t there to stop it, guys. You know how overbearing he is? Maybe that sort of control is what keeps Xefros in line. I mean, we saw how he short-circuited without it.” He theorized out of the blue, scaring himself with his own words, because, if he was right, then Xefros had the potential to be a lot more dangerous than simply drawing some blood from Dave, going rogue and chainless for a few mere hours. He couldn’t imagine what Xefros was capable of if he had never been constantly kept in check by his moirail since his early years. For as problematic as Dammek was, maybe he was necessary to have around. 

Both Sollux and Aradia looked pensive.

“Did he hurt Dave too bad? I mean, just how crazy did he get?” 

“Pretty fucking crazy, dude. Dave needed stitches.” 

“Shit. Did that involve too many authorities?” 

“No, no one, surprisingly. Xefros won’t get in trouble for it, but Dave never wants to see any of you guys again, which, I think, is fair.” 

“No, yeah, I get it. We pushed him too far; that’s understandable. But, uh. He’s fine, right?” 

“Yeah, he’ll be alright.” 

As they resumed their breakfast, still with thoughts and conspiracies roaming about in their minds, Eridan, who presumably couldn’t make heads nor tails of any of this, decided to just keep quiet instead of getting himself involved in the slightest. He made no questions, only joined in on their more lighthearted conversation, and stayed out of trouble, which was the smartest thing he could’ve done. Karkat finished his tray alongside his friends and followed them out to the lobby, on the way out to catch the bus. Before he could reach the front door, though, a hand grabbed onto his arm, catching his attention, as well, and making him turn to see who needed him. 

A foot to his right stood Xefros, looking as terror-stricken and meek as he had always been, with wide and fearful eyes focused on Karkat’s face and furrowed brows pointing upwards out of constant nervousness. It was relieving to see him back to normal, but it didn’t change Karkat’s newfound fear of him and his destructive potential. Under this new light, he reminded Karkat of Gamzee. 

“Karkat, can I speak with you?” 

That tone of voice, so inoffensive and frail, almost made it impossible to believe that this biddable little troll was the same one that had almost taken Dave’s life less than twenty hours ago. Karkat nodded, and pulled Xefros to the side, so their conversation wouldn’t obstruct the flow of students outside of the building, toward the buses. Amid the sea of lowblood trolls, Dammek and his tall horns stuck out above the others, aviators fixed on the back of Xefros’ head, but only for the second it took him to register the scene and leave with the others. Karkat’s heart beat slower at the sight, but he decided to brush that off as nothing, just more of Dammek’s strange and obsessive behavior toward Xefros. He really,  _ really _ didn’t want to get himself stuck between these two in any way. Their relationship felt to be a warzone, which, he supposed, explained a lot of Xefros’ anxieties. 

“I want to apologize for yesterday.” Xefros started, small and sincere. “I don’t know why I did… Why I… I, I’d never want to hurt Dave, you know that. I’m sure you do, I’m, I’m sorry, Karkat. I hope he’s okay. I, um, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I think it’s better I don’t ever see him again.” 

Yeah. Karkat nodded his absolute agreement to that, glad that he and Xefros, somehow and despite all odds, were on the same page about this. Dave was far safer not getting involved with any of his friends ever again, and he was fine with that. It made sense, and anything that kept Dave from getting hurt received his instant support. He offered Xefros his best attempt at a friendly smile, which he knew ended up looking awkward on him, but Xefros replied with a small smile of his own, meaning the message had gone through and his job was done. 

“I get you, man. We’re all good here, don’t worry about it.” 

At that, Xefros’ smile turned into a relieved grin. 

“Thank you, I’m glad.” 

During the ride to campus, Sollux and Dammek were awfully chatty, with Sollux leaning onto the back of Dammek’s seat and Dammek twisted around with his back to the window in order to look at his friend. Karkat usually sat by himself in the row behind Sollux and Aradia, and couldn’t very well make out what was being discussed up front, though he tried. He leaned forward, craned his neck closer, but didn’t get much of anything from back here, because his friends weren’t talking loud enough to sunder their words from the noise of wheels on asphalt. It was a little annoying to his nosey ass, but he’d get over himself. That conversation probably wasn’t even important, anyway. He didn’t care about not knowing it. 

In class, he whispered to Sollux, who sat beside him. 

“I didn’t know you were such close friends with Dammek.” 

If he sounded bitter, it was because he felt it, too.

“I honestly wouldn’t say we’re close; we just talk, like I talk to everyone else.  _ You’re _ the one who avoids him.” 

“The reasons for that are obvious enough for you to figure out, I’m sure. I just don’t know how you can put up with him.” 

“He’s not that bad, KK.”

“Oh, sure he isn’t; he just decked my--” He cut himself off immediately, blood running cold in his veins, jaw setting. Telling his friends about his newfound relationship status with a  _ human _ struck him as imprudent at the moment, so maybe he shouldn’t do that. Maybe it was something for later. “He kicked Dave’s ass, what a great guy.” 

Sollux squinted at him but remained otherwise mute to any suspicious that he might’ve had in regards to that slip. 

“I’m just saying he’s not a complete asshole, like you seem to believe. Just be careful with those black feelings, alright?” 

“Fuck you.” 

Sollux grinned. 

For the next period, the class went upstairs and sat at the back of the room to wait for the humans. Karkat watched Dave walk in with the others and take a seat closer to the stage for the first time, just as he said that he’d do. He waved at Karkat from his new seat, who waved back and couldn’t wait for the professor to let them sit in pairs. It hadn’t even been a day, and he missed this guy already. His friends noticed this little exchange, but didn’t really say anything about it, or, if they did, Karkat didn’t hear it. He stayed put, staring at the side of Dave’s face, scrutinizing his perfect haircut, the long sleeves, the skinny jeans and black Converses while the professor disclosed what they were supposed to accomplish today. Dave had covered the bruises on his face up with makeup, it seemed like; it was perfectly clear along with his neck, both of which had been a wreck just yesterday. He wondered why Dave had suddenly taken an interest in doing that now, when he had a busted up and much worse looking cheekbone four days ago. A lot about Dave didn’t add up, and this just expanded the list. 

Sitting in pairs, he had the opportunity to ask after that, keeping his voice low to a whisper in case the professor happened to call them out for class disruption and draw more attention to the two of them than necessary.

“Why did you cover up the bruises? They aren’t even all that bad anymore.” 

“I know, but I have somewhere to be this afternoon, and I can’t really show face like that.” 

“Where are you going?” 

Dave hesitated. 

“Nowhere important, don’t worry about it. Are you free tonight?” 

Evasive measures followed by a quick change of subject, huh. This wasn’t an unimportant thing at all, if Dave was so against talking about it, but Karkat wouldn’t push, either; they had no obligation to tell each other anything. He had his own share of secrets, too; he just happened to be better at keeping them concealed. 

“Yeah, of course. Want me to come over?” 

Dave grinned, absolutely stunning, as always. 

“I was actually going to ask you to dinner, but we could make something at home, if you want.” 

“Won’t your brother be there?” 

“Probably, but he usually stays in his room.” 

Karkat nodded. Seeing Dirk again would be awkward, given their interactions yesterday and the day before, and didn’t he have to tell Dave about all of that? Dirk said that if he didn’t, Dirk would, and, somehow, that seemed worse. He should probably be getting around to doing that, except, maybe, not right now. Not exactly right now. There were quite a few hours before dinnertime still, so he was fine. No hurry. He had time.

He took Dave’s hand and hid it under the desk. 

“I missed you.” He whispered, so low that it was barely audible. Dave must’ve lip-read him for this one. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Dave replied, running a thumb across his knuckles, following the back of his hand. He held on tighter. 

“How are the stitches?” 

“It’s all good, Karkat. Don’t worry.” 

“Can I trust you?” 

“Yeah.” 

He wanted to kiss him. Dave’s face was right there, thrown a little to the side in order to speak with him, to look him in the eye, angled just right to kiss, and it was absolute torture not being able to. All he could do was squeeze Dave’s hand instead. 

“Okay.” 

The professor distributed paper sheets for the class’ assignment, which had their hands naturally unlacing to get to it. 

Outside, after class had been dismissed, Karkat followed the humans out of the building alongside Dave, like he had always done, careless of the trolls that were supposed to only leave once every single human had left before them. He held onto the cuff of Dave’s shirt and pulled him aside the moment that he could, branching from the group into a more secluded area where no one could really see them. This had only not worked last time because of Xefros, but, he supposed, if Xefros was too busy now intently eyeing his moirail, then they’d be fine. He pulled Dave under the shade of the building and hooked an arm around his neck to bring him down into a kiss. That should’ve been expected from him from the way that he had stared at Dave all morning, without really doing any work this time around, and Dave didn’t seem very surprised at this turn of events, either. Actually, judging by the way that he so naturally leaned down to seal their lips together, he must’ve already known. 

Karkat pulled back with a grin and a chest filled with air. Dave was unquestionably the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

“Are we having lunch or do you have to go pretty soon?” 

“Well.” Dave stalled, fishing out his phone to check the time. “The next bus should be here in about ten minutes, so I better get going. I’ll eat later. Sorry.” 

“No, it’s cool. I’ll see you later tonight.” 

Dave put his phone away, ducked and pressed a smile to Karkat’s face. He couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, too. 

“I’ll see you, then. Call me.” 

He watched Dave leave with tingling cheeks and a wide grin tugging the corners of his lips upward. It was embarrassing just how happy Dave made him. 

Walking out of concealment, he intended to join the stream of trolls all headed toward the cafeteria, but something else caught his attention instead, far in the distance, misplaced outside of the norm; a tall, lanky figure and two capricious horns. Gamzee shouldn’t be out here, ever. This wasn’t his lunch break or inhabited portion of the campus. He was supposed to be at practice with the rest of his kind, not meandering about out here, seeming to be bound for the gates. The sight made a mental siren go off in Karkat’s brain and had him cutting through the stream of trolls to get across, over to where Gamzee waddled, unable to ever walk in a straight line. That was worrying in itself, possibly dangerous?, and pushed him to move faster. He ran up to his ex-moirail and slipped in front of him, blocking his path, getting two dark purples to focus themselves on his face. He hadn’t had Gamzee’s eyes on him in a while, and didn’t feel anything from that. Improvement. 

“Hey.” He quickly breathed out, making Gamzee stop in his tracks. “Hey, Gamzee, how are you doing?” 

Gamzee’s naturally half-lidded eyes squinted. 

“Fine, bro.” Gamzee mumbled, looking annoyed. Instead of staying and chatting, he circled Karkat and swiftly resumed his walking. “What do you want?” 

“Nothing, uh.” 

Gamzee had no intention to speak with him, that was obvious, so he followed, talking anyway.  

“I don’t know if you remember, but I dropped you off at rehab last night. I’m just surprised to see you out of there so soon.” 

“Oh, so it was you.” Gamzee’s flat tone hinted at some buried vexation and deeper feelings about this, which were overrun by extreme exhaustion, but still put Karkat on edge, and kept him on his toes. He couldn’t be too careful around this guy. Gamzee shook his head. “Why don’t you mind your own fucking business, motherfucker?” 

That stung. Karkat’s eyes widened with the suddenness of it, genuinely shocked to hear it. 

“Wow. Is this how you thank me for saving your life?” 

“Saving my life, brother? You really think you’re  _ saving _ me, bro?” Gamzee scoffed. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

His heart beat fast, shooting raw adrenaline down his veins from the vicious tone of Gamzee’s voice. 

“Yeah, actually, I do. I’m trying to keep you from killing yourself, you fucking idiot.” 

At that, Gamzee turned to look at him with a deep scowl on his face and wild, burning red eyes around the purple of his irises. Karkat had never seen the yellow of his eyes any other color before, and it was terrifying. He didn’t know what caused it, or what it entailed, but it froze his blood and had him stilling immediately, not following Gamzee anymore, retroactively regretting his choice of words. With that horrifying glare fixed on his face, Gamzee took two steps around and stopped right in front of him, towering over him, causing some disturbing memories to resurface from the depths of his mind and make him want to run away forever. 

“And why exactly do you give a motherfuck, brother? We’re nothing, you and me. Not anymore, not for a while, so why are you still here, after me, caring for me as if I were a motherfucking grub? Why are you following me instead of moving on with your life? Do you want something from me, bro?” Gamzee spoke in a low voice that sent chills down his spine, pausing briefly to lean down and look him closer in the face. This sudden approach had him instinctively taking a step back to avoid it. Without acknowledging that, Gamzee continued. “Do you miss me, best friend?” 

His lips trembled and his throat closed. He had to leave, he had to leave; this was too much, too dangerous, too stupid, but Gamzee had him petrified out of fear, once again useless to defend himself against this guy. Horrifying flashbacks flooded his brain in a second, sent his heart into a rampage, and made him regret every single decision that he had ever made regarding the troll before him. He wanted to cry, but couldn’t; wanted to scream, but couldn’t; wanted to run, but stayed in place instead. 

“No.” He breathed out, terrified, trembling, but finding something within himself, something new and raw that had him moving, suddenly charged with a scalding hot feeling in his chest powerful enough to close his hands in fists and shove Gamzee back on the chest. His head was clouded over with fear and his eyes watered, but the intense burning under his skin pushed him through it. “Get away from me!” 

Gamzee staggered back a step and a half from that, completely unshaken save for a lazy grin that spread across his face. It made Karkat sick; he could barely breathe. 

“Don’t worry, motherfucker, I don’t miss you either. All I’ve done so far is stay away from you, have you noticed? I’ve been doing my part, best friend, so why can’t you do the same? You refuse to let me go, but you won’t take me back either. You’re confusing, bro.” 

His hands shook so bad that he had to cross his arms in an attempt to stop them, locking them in between his ribs and his elbows. It was very cold, suddenly, though there was no wind, and the midday sun overhead tried to fight him on this. He didn’t want to be alone with Gamzee right now. 

“I don’t want you back. I’ll  _ never _ want you back.” His voice trembled. “I want nothing more than to have you out of my life forever.” 

Gamzee took a step aside and motioned to the campus gate with a hand. They weren’t ten feet from it by now. 

“Then walk out of mine, too.” 

A pang shot through him. He should do that, absolutely, and never look back, but, for some reason, it hurt to consider it, really consider it. He despised Gamzee as much as he feared him, and would lead a happy, healthy life away from him, where he could properly heal from the past and focus onto the future, but something kept pulling him back, kept preventing his long due leave; something that he didn’t know what it was, but that couldn’t have been any good. It was the reason why he still worried over Gamzee, and put the guy before himself, before his own safety and happiness, despite how much it made him hate himself for it, and made his life miserable. Gamzee had never done any good for him, yet he still cared for this fucking asshole, and felt empty at the idea of the guy’s definite absence. It was ridiculous, but a very clear allegory of his life. He dreaded loneliness so much that his subconscious refused to let go of the worst person that he had ever met. Classic him. 

Except he wasn’t alone anymore, though; Dave was right there with him, for the time being, and he had nothing to fear, so letting Gamzee go would be absolutely great, with no negative repercussions at all. At least, none that he could immediately foresee. He took a step toward the gate, reluctant to leave, still feeling himself irrationally drawn to the personification of danger standing next to him. It made no sense, and he honestly hated it. He had Dave now; shouldn’t it be easier to finally leave Gamzee behind? He turned to the six foot clown beside him. 

“Try not to kill yourself.” He muttered, looking into Gamzee’s lazy expression. The wildness of it had dissipated throughout their conversation, and the red bits of his eyes almost disappeared under the lids like this. Gamzee almost looked like himself now. 

“Try not to miss me too much.” 

He squinted. The complacency of Gamzee’s tone coupled with his signature lazy grin pissed him off, and finally had him moving toward the gate. He didn’t care that it was still lunch break, and he had class later; walking out was a metaphor, and he took it with gusto. Gamzee meant nothing to him, and he meant nothing to Gamzee; the only thing that they had in common was a shared past, which he’d repress and forget about to the best of his ability. Other than that, they had no connection between one another. He walked through the gate and stopped on the sidewalk, absently watching the traffic on the street, the pedestrians coming and going and the clear, blue sky overhead. He wanted to turn around and glance back at Gamzee, but minded himself, and didn’t. He was over it. Truly, honestly over it this time. It hurt, though, still, which was stupid and completely irrational, but he had no way of controlling it. His chest felt empty, as if punched through, so he touched it, rubbed a hand over where it hurt and tried not to mind it. It’d pass soon, he told himself. He’d be fine. 

This was for the better. 

Turning around to go back inside, his eyes fell onto the bus station way down the block, where Dave stood, waiting for his ride. Warmth immediately filled his chest up at the sight and tugged onto the corners of his lips. He really would be alright, then. Looking back, Gamzee wasn’t there anymore, so it was only him and Dave now, as it’d probably be for a good long while. He started down the sidewalk, fully aware that Dave’s bus would be arriving shortly, but he just needed to hug him, to hear his voice again, to have Dave tell him that it’d be alright, that he’d be alright. He needed this right now, and walked faster to the stop, hoping to have a minute or two with Dave before impending departure. Dave saw him pretty soon; watched him close the distance between them with a slight crease in his brow but no words to refute it. He buried his face onto Dave’s neck and wrapped both arms tightly around him, breathing him in, feeling the warmth of his body. Dave hugged him back with about as much force. 

“What’s wrong?” Dave asked him, voice pressed to his hair, to his temple. He never thought that he’d fall in love with a timbre. 

He shook his head. 

“Nothing, I’m just, I’m glad I have you.” 

The loud and distinctive sound of a bus approaching from afar reached his ears, but he didn’t mind that, and only hugged Dave tighter. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” He spoke while pulling back a little, just the enough to look Dave in the face, to see his own reflection on the aviators. “Tell me you won’t leave.” 

The sound of heavy wheels rolling on asphalt became louder, and Dave briefly glanced at the bus to confirm his suspicions. 

“I’m sorry. I’d invite you to come with me, but I don’t think, you know, I don’t think it’s, uh, very--”

The breaks screeched loudly, indicating the bus’ definite stop, followed by the noisy hinges of the doors opening. 

Dave tensed. 

Karkat was about to tell him that no, that wasn’t what he meant with the request; he didn’t mind Dave running some errand or another right now. He meant that in the more general sense of the word, as in, a very desperate and arguably embarrassing exposition of his absolute fear of loneliness, seeking a concrete commitment to the end of his worries that would bring him peace, even though he knew that Dave leaving him right now was a ridiculous and irrational thought; he just needed a sort of confirmation to soothe his nerves, but didn’t get the chance to say it before Dave cut him off. 

“Fine, you can come, just forget anything that happens from now on.” 

He shut his mouth, swallowed down his speech, and found himself utterly confused. Without another word, Dave took his hand and pulled him into the bus. 

“Where are we going?” He asked as they clumsily stepped down the aisle, staggering a bit from the bus’ violent start. 

“To a very boring little house Southwest of here.” 


	12. Caught in a visit

The house looked about as small as he had pictured it during the ride over, and further from downtown than he thought possible. Houston was clearly a much bigger city than he imagined it to be if a forty minute bus drive in a single direction didn’t bring them out of town, but only to a residential area instead, full of similar-looking houses in what could only be described as a suburban setting, like the ones in the movies, except without the white picket fences and less, well, expensive. The house in question was small if compared to the others around it, yes, but it seemed cared for, despite the overgrown front lawn that stuck out pretty disgustingly. Karkat supposed that whoever lived here didn’t go out much to see the mess on their front yard, though he didn’t know just how wrong he was about that. 

Standing atop the dirty welcome mat, Dave rummaged through his bag to find a single key, free of ornaments or other keys, tossed carelessly to the bottom of his backpack. His hands trembled as he tried to fit it into the lock; it took him a couple of tries before that worked, and the door opened for the two of them. Karkat watched him in silence, wearing a crease in his brow. Dave was very obviously nervous about being here, and Karkat had a feeling that he’d learn why that was in just a second. If atmosphere reading wasn’t lost on him, then he should probably start feeling nervous, too. There must’ve been a good reason for that, because humans didn’t shake easily. Dave put the key away, pushed on the door and walked in ahead, having Karkat follow without a word. Not mentioning any of his thoughts at the moment just struck him as prudent.

Inside, two human adults loudly discussed something that Karkat couldn’t eavesdrop on for long enough to make out what it was about, because the moment that they stepped into the living room, the discussion ended, and the adults both turned to look at them. One was a woman who looked eerily similar to Dirk, even from thirty feet away, and the other was a man whose skin color reminded him of Dave, only a little darker. These must’ve been his parents, then, and this his childhood home, which put a big, bolded question mark right in the center of Karkat’s forehead regarding Dave’s immense nervousness. If he didn’t feel safe or relaxed to be coming back home, then Karkat feared the worst. Suddenly, he felt unbecoming to be here, trespassing into some human’s possibly awful family. 

“Oh, my baby.” Dave’s mother softly breathed out, placing a hand on her heart while quickly walking over to the two of them by the door. She was very clearly relieved to be seeing her son again after who knew how long; a year or so, maybe, if Karkat’s memory didn’t fail him, which it usually did. He supposed that that sort of reaction was to be expected. Now, the father, on the other hand, didn’t even move from the kitchen island, and simply watched the scene from there. Karkat wondered if that was the bad guy right there, the cause of Dave’s unease. He had read enough news headlines to know not to trust father figures. 

“Hey, mom.” 

The mother approached Dave with a tight hug that was reciprocated with two slightly disinterested hands pressed to her back. From this close, Karkat noticed that she was incredibly tall, and easily towered over her son. If his memory and object comparison were right, then the mother might just be about as tall as Dirk himself, which was impressive, because Dirk was the tallest person that he had ever met. She kissed Dave’s head with a lot of emotion on her face, almost giving off an overly dramatic vibe to the whole thing, kind of as if she were acting out a play of some sort. It was a little awkward to see, made this a bit of a show rather than an emotional reunion, and, standing there, right next to the two of them, Karkat felt weird, like he shouldn’t be here. The mother might’ve been faking the emotion, sure, but this was still a decidedly private moment that he was intruding on. 

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart; it’s been chaos ever since you left, but I bet you’re having a wonderful time with your brother. How is he, how’s Dirk? I haven’t seen him in so long, the charlatan. Told me he’d call on my birthday and didn’t.” 

There was a hint of a sharp edge to the tone of Dave’s mother’s voice that made Karkat squint at, but he kept ultimately quiet about it. This woman was an actress, wasn’t she? Maybe she wasn’t so innocent in regards to Dave’s anxiety to be back. Dave pulled out of the hug to answer the question, and, with no intention to prolong the hug any longer, the mother easily let him go. Karkat wanted to overanalyze that, too, but told himself that it’d be too much. He’d simply stick to the obvious for a more accurate reading instead. 

“He’s fine, uh.” Dave sounded as nervous as he looked to be. He cut himself off and glanced over to Karkat, presenting him with a hand to quickly change the subject. “Mom, this is Karkat. We met in class.” 

Karkat offered Mrs. Strider a toothy grin to go with a very polite greeting, but she barely even spared him a glance, frowning down at Dave instead.

“In class?” 

Her tone was so indignant that it almost offended him. 

“Yeah, we take Music Theory or whatever together.” 

The hard scowl on the woman’s face reminded him of Dirk. She had his eyebrows and nose; rather,  _ he _ had her eyebrows and nose, which made Karkat believe that his eyes couldn’t have been too different from hers, as well, given everything else, except, maybe, the color. He wasn’t sure why, but blue didn’t strike him as the kind of eyes that Dirk would hide behind weird, pointy shades. Their hair color was practically the same, though; the skin color was identical, and the height and delicate features overlapped. Karkat wondered if, when Dirk was born, she had immediately seen herself in him, and what had been her first thought about that, good or bad. What had she thought of Dave, too, who only seemed to have gotten her pretty mouth? Karkat couldn’t very well see the father’s detailed face from the living room, but he supposed that Dave looked a lot more similar to him than to her. 

“You’re in college?” 

The exasperation in her voice made Dave visibly uncomfortable. The way that she had been acting for the last few minutes, so strangely aggressive with her long lost, long missed son, made Karkat completely understand why neither Dave nor Dirk had communicated her about Dave’s enrollment at university yet. They had probably been avoiding her fake ass on purpose, which Karkat fully condoned. 

“Yeah.” 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” She shook her head. “Who’s paying for it, or are you on a scholarship?” 

“Bro offered to pay.” 

She scoffed. 

“Of course, your brother, your perfect brother.” She started off the sentence sharp and resentful, but, strangely enough, her tone quickly softened to something more sentimental as she spoke further of Dirk. “He’s so well off, your brother. He’s a miracle, really; so wonderful, beautiful, polite, and he’s taking such good care of you, too.” Her voice was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion as she cupped a hand under Dave’s chin and tilted his face up to look into hers through the shades. “Look at you, well fed, strong, healthy. Your brother is a saint.” 

Karkat couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that, resolute to keep quiet otherwise. This lady was… Unconventional.

“I know.” Dave spoke while pulling back from the touch, and glancing off to a portion of the house that disappeared into a hallway. “I’m actually here because he needs my birth certificate.” 

Oh, shit, that made sense.

“What for?” 

“College.” 

Nevermind, that was complete bullshit. They didn’t ask for a birth certificate for registration, Karkat was pretty sure, and, anyway, that could only have be done before classes started, so Dave must’ve been here for an entirely different reason that he didn’t trust his mother with, understandably enough. Karkat didn’t have to know the reason to agree with that decision. 

The mother stared down at her son with suspicion, but ultimately decided against calling him out on the lie, and took a step back instead, starting for the hallway reflected onto Dave’s aviators. The two of them towed behind her.

“What are you taking, sweetheart?” 

“Music.” 

Dave’s response was met with silence. Maybe his mother’s interest in his academic life ended right there, maybe she disapproved of his career choice, or maybe she wasn’t even listening in the first place, only making small talk on the way. Karkat couldn’t choose between three very good theories for this, and went with all of them. 

The three walked down the hallway and into the first room on the left-hand side of it, where a small office was, all dusty and obviously unused in ages. It didn’t feel right, or very safe, to go in there with the Strider family, to inhabit such a small room with them, even if only for a few minutes, so Karkat waited by the doorway instead, watching them from just outside of it. The woman reached far into the top shelf and removed a folder from it, located high enough for Dave to not be able to reach unless assisted by a chair or a ladder. She brought the folder down and dismissively handed it to Dave, passing Karkat a brief glance on the meanwhile. Her blue eyes were cold, and Karkat hoped to have retaliated that right back to her with his mutant reds. 

“Do all of you get a little troll companion in college?” The mother asked sharply, staring straight into Karkat’s face, dangerous and impassive. 

Karkat felt his blood boil from that, and a lava pit erupt from within the bottom of his chest, but managed to not let much of that show through body language, or she’d know that she had effectively gotten to him. He breathed out a long, long breath and set his jaw to keep himself from saying a thing back to her. This was the high ground, he told himself; he was better than this. His hands didn’t close in fists, and his brows didn’t furrow, though his face was redder than an active volcano right now, he was sure; he felt it, but he couldn’t control that, so it didn’t count. What mattered was that he kept his big, trouble-making mouth shut. 

Dave, on the other hand, nearly dropped the documents to the floor. He looked positively embarrassed for his devious mother, unaware that she had asked that on purpose. Karkat officially disliked her. 

“No, mom, no; of course not. This is--Karkat’s a classmate.” 

“Oh, so he’s just a little friend you’ve made?” 

“Yeah.” 

Dave’s hands were shaking too badly to properly flip through the documents in the file, so he set it down onto the nearby desk and used both hands for it, obviously very nervous at the moment. Karkat felt bad for him, and hoped to not be making this any worse than it absolutely had to be by keeping quiet and generally non-confrontational toward the mother. He had been told many a time before that his temper only made things worse, and, judging by Dammek’s similarly quick to anger attitude, he understood that completely. Engaging Dave’s mother didn’t seem like a good idea in regards to the preservation of Dave’s comfort, so he tried not to do that. Dave was more important than some petty insult carelessly thrown at him. 

“What happened to John?” The mother asked, turning to Dave again, all sweet and nice all of a sudden. Karkat had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at that. “You two used to be so close. Where is he, now?” 

“I think he’s in Rice.” 

Some guy named John who used to be close to Dave, presumably during his school years, who Dave apparently wasn’t in touch with anymore could only be that one hookup that Dave had briefly mentioned to him in their first non-date, the guy who got him off on his bed while talking about prom. How could he remember that in detail but not Dave’s school fights? God, he really was a selective listener; how embarrassing. He’d probably never forget that story, which, to be honest, he didn’t mind. Wait, so the mother knew John. Considering that they used to know each other since an early age, it kind of made sense that she had seen their friendship grow from the beginning. They had probably hung out a lot here during high school, as evidenced by the whole getting each other off thing. The aforementioned bedroom of Dave’s must’ve been the one in this house, too. Interesting.

“I guess that means you’re not there, are you?” 

“No.” 

Dave found what he was looking for, swiped it out of the folder, and carefully placed it in his bag. Karkat couldn’t see what it was from here, if it was really Dave’s birth certificate or possibly something else, and made a mental point to ask about it later. The mother watched him in silence, before taking the folder and putting it back in place, up high. Once she was done, her icy blues fell on Karkat again, making his blood boil in an instant, though he refused to show it. He’d never drop to her level. 

Incidentally, Dave hadn’t mentioned which university they both went to. Smart. 

“Are you two staying for lunch? Diego’s making his famous guacamole.” 

“Ah--”

She cut Dave off immediately, turning to him with a pained expression on her face, which, in Karkat’s humble opinion, was a little too exaggerated to be very real. If she were really an actress, then, unfortunately, she wasn’t a very good one. Her antics didn’t buy him.

“Please, sweetheart; I’ve missed you so much. Please, do this for mommy.” 

Dave looked wildly uncomfortable at that, but decided against fighting her on this, and simply nodded his agreement instead. Karkat didn’t really understand why Dave wasn’t calling his mother out on her very obvious act, or why he was being so careful around her, as if she could break him in half with a mere look. Karkat didn’t know the first thing about human families or how they worked, but this just didn’t seem right. Was there something here that he wasn’t seeing? Was Dave’s mother more dangerous than she seemed to be? If Dave was being so compliant and anxious simply by standing near her, then, yeah, Karkat must’ve been overlooking something that completely changed this little visit to Dave’s childhood home. Maybe his mother did have the power to break him with a single look. Karkat wouldn’t know, but he should probably fear her, as well. 

Parents raised children, was all that he knew, which meant that this woman had been around since literal ever in Dave’s life, and that probably didn’t lead to a lot of great times growing up, if he had to guess. He knew for a fact that he wouldn’t have gotten along with her too well had he been forced to live almost twenty years with her, in her house, but he supposed that the feeling was different, because she hadn’t raised him. She had, however, raised the nicest, sweetest, most perfect human boy that Karkat had ever met, so kudos to her in that regard, if nothing else. She wasn’t completely terrible, after all. Still, the fact that Dave seemed to walk on eggshells around her was alarming, and pointed to something not so great that hammered into the back of Karkat’s head. It felt as if he were very close to putting two and two together here, but just not there yet, though he was definitely in the right place for it. He hoped that whatever he happened to find out wouldn’t be too upsetting.

The mother grinned at Dave’s positive response, and promptly led the two of them out of the office, into the kitchen, where the father seemed to have  _ just _ started making the aforementioned guacamole. Huh. From a little bit closer, it was very easy to see the clear similarities between Dave and his father; the thick brows, the wide jaw, the darker skin, and how young both of them were. That wasn’t a jab at Dave’s mother (not intentionally, anyway), but Diego was definitely a decade or so younger than her, in the least. He stood by the counter, cutting open some avocados, and only briefly glanced at the three as they approached. The mother beamed while the father looked more like a potted plant that had been left in the shade for too long, small and wilting, which made Karkat reconsider the bad guy figure here, because, maybe, the mother played a bigger part on that than originally thought. He wondered if visibly wilting as a human person was the aftereffect of spending too long around this very, very strange woman, and if Dave had cured from it during his time away from her. If so, then his current behavior must’ve been a relapse.

“Why don’t you two help us with lunch?” The mother offered around a wide smile, opening the fridge and pulling out some tomatoes, onions, lemons, and other, less easily noticeable ingredients, all put together in little bags. She placed all of that on the kitchen island and proceeded to go around the room for some bowls and pots. 

Karkat had no idea what he was supposed to be doing here, or if this was even a normal family thing to do; never having had anything close to the concept of a human family before, he felt pretty lost, and just mimicked everything that Dave did. At the island, Dave pulled a drawer open, took out a couple of knives, handed one to Karkat and started chopping up tomatoes, onions, whatever. Karkat quietly did the same, feeling weird here, in the middle of someone else’s household, with half of his brain focusing on not bringing the knife down on his fingers, while the other half silently watched Dave’s mother bring plates, glasses and silverware to the dinner table, only a few feet away. He didn’t trust her, and couldn’t relax without knowing exactly where she was at all times, what she was doing, and if it would immediately harm him. Being around her was energy-consuming, and he wondered if Dave felt similarly about it. He felt that he’d soon understand the exact reason why Dave had moved out of here. 

The mother placed all of the aforementioned items down onto the table, and turned to possibly retrieve some more from the kitchen, when her eyes fell on Dave by accident, and she suddenly stilled, blues wide, clearly shocked at the sight. That was so startling to see that Karkat absently paused the chopping to immediately glance over at Dave, expecting something terrible, to see what the mother was seeing. Dave, though, was just cutting up some tomatoes next to him, perfectly oblivious to all of this, whatever it was. Nothing seemed weird or out of place, which, oddly enough, had Karkat worried. He watched the mother very carefully walk over to her son and close a hand on the hilt of the knife, holding it in a firm grasp, seizing Dave’s movement, hand, and attention with that. Dave looked up at his mother, face blank behind the shades, and stared into her crazed, wide eyes. Karkat felt his own pulse quicken in his veins. What the fuck was happening?

“Sweetie, maybe you shouldn’t use the knife.” The mother spoke slowly, cautiously, comparable to cops trying to persuade a criminal from acting dangerously toward a hostage. It changed the atmosphere of the room entirely and really freaked Karkat out. He had no idea what this was.

In response to the suggestion, Dave easily let go of the knife and took a step back from the island counter. Behind the shades, his face grew pale, and, hanging idly at his sides, his hands trembled something awful. He had been pretty shaky this whole time, but this was different, far more intense, and Karkat didn’t know why. What did that mean? Had Dave killed someone with a knife or stabbed his mother before? Karkat stood dumbly in place and simply watched as the mother used her free hand to coax Dave further away from the island, toward some overhead cabinets instead. 

“Go on, darling; finish setting the table for me. I’ll chop these tomatoes up for you.” 

Dave obeyed her, but his every movement seemed slowed down a fraction of a second as he reached into the cabinets, pulled down the napkin holder, and brought it to the table, still trembling, still shaken to the very core. He set the table for four people, each with a plate, glass and silverware, and, despite how much his hands shook, he managed to get it all right, without breaking anything, or dropping it all to the floor. Karkat watched him with slitted eyes, finding this all to be very out of the ordinary.  _ Something _ was happening here, which he couldn’t see, that made all kinds of caution sirens go off in his head. This wasn’t right. He glanced over to the parents, who helped each other make the guacamole, and wondered why the father hadn’t said a word to Dave this entire time. Hadn’t Dave been away for a whole year or so? Shouldn’t the father welcome him back or something? Dave hadn’t even addressed the guy, either. A very tense air obviously hung over the four of them, but the father didn’t look bothered by it, or even showed any sort of acknowledgement regarding it at all. This was so weird, it was all wrong. Karkat looked back down at the lemon in his hand and cut it in half. 

Lunch was served not too long after, and a few pots of indistinguishable goop were placed on the center of the table for each person to help themselves to. He watched the Strider family drop guacamole, nachos, and some other, unnamed human garbage onto their plates, which he simply copied onto his own plate without question. It all probably just tasted stale to him, anyway, like most of everything else that he had ever had, so it wouldn’t make a difference. He was about to scoop up some of the goop with a spoon and eat it when the humans around him started using the tortilla chips to do that instead, prompting him to immediately forgo his original plan and mimic them. The chip was crunchy and the scooped up contents were not, which made this an interesting experience, if anything. It felt weird to be eating snack food like Doritos with real food like whatever this guacamole thing and variations were, but he supposed family traditions shouldn’t be questioned. He did, however, miss the orange powder covering his fingers after touching the crunchy chips. 

“Well, isn’t this nice?” The mother said after a minute, gathering everyone’s attention onto herself. Her false niceness made Karkat tired. “I missed having four people at my table. Do you have that at your brother’s apartment, Dave?” 

Her passive-aggressiveness was getting old, too.

“Not really; it’s just the two of us there and occasionally Karkat.” 

“What about his roommate?” 

“Uh, his… College roommate? From, like, ten years ago?” 

The mother shrugged. 

“That guy hasn’t lived there in a long time, mom.” 

“How am I supposed to know? Your brother never tells me anything, didn’t even call me on my birthday. Has he forgotten about me already? Are you going to be the same case, baby? Please, tell me no.” 

“No, mom, and he didn’t forget about you; he’s just busy, you know. Adulting and stuff. Keeping an apartment.” 

“Well, that shouldn’t be so difficult, considering his father left him a fortune.” She scoffed. Her tone was so bitter that Dave decided against antagonizing her further, and kept quiet instead. She noticed that, and made herself softer. “I would’ve given you the world if I could, sweetheart. You know that.” 

Dave shook his head, remaining silent. His father said nothing to any of this, either, and Karkat also didn’t intervene, though he very carefully considered it. Maybe keeping quiet wasn’t the best answer, but, then again, he wasn’t sure that making a scene would be any better. Dave had decided to lay low, and he had only been doing the same, however questionable that might’ve been to the both of them. He really wanted to tell this woman off, but didn’t think that that would’ve been appropriate, and ultimately didn’t. She could throw him in the dungeon anytime. 

“You know that nice clothes and shiny jewelry don’t mean anything, right?” The mother asked rhetorically, wearing some very expensive articles on herself, as opposed to everyone else’s rather pedestrian, and, honestly, bleak outfits, but Karkat wouldn’t say a thing about that. He stayed quiet and tuned in to what could only be more bullshit. “A nice, big penthouse apartment in the heart of Houston and presents everyday don’t make a great life, honey; what’s really important is family. We’re the ones who will be there for you when you need it, so think about that when you leave this house again.” 

Dave nodded, pushing some food around his plate with a tortilla chip. 

“Remember that time I took you to the zoo, sweetie? Wasn’t that fun? And that park, not too far from here? And when I drove you to John’s house when you were kids? All of the times we went to the mall together? I’m not all that bad, right? Dirk doesn’t know how to take care of you like I do. What we have is special.” 

Silence from all who sat at the table. This was the closest that Karkat had ever felt to experiencing incarceration. 

“Is your brother even around for you?” 

“Yeah, he is.” 

The mother brought a hand to her chest, smiling affectionately. It almost looked genuine.

“I’m relieved to hear it. Tell me he knows how to patch you up when you--” 

Dave suddenly got up from his seat. The sound of the chair legs scraping on the floor was so loud that it cut his mother off mid-sentence and caused the other two to look at him, wide-eyed. 

“Excuse me.” Dave muttered quickly before rushing out of the room and far into the hallway, where he locked himself behind a door. The three watched him in silence. 

The mother’s eyes fell on Karkat next, making his heart skip a beat. He wanted to deck her. 

“So you’re Dave’s new friend! I’m glad he’s getting along with somebody else now. Have you met John?” 

So she was playing the friendly hostess now instead of trying to offend him with every word, okay; alright, he could do that, too. 

“Ah, no, Mrs. Strider, I haven’t, but he sounds…” Like a multiple-night stand. “Lovely.” 

“Oh, he was a talented kid; helped Dave with his homework very often and always aced all of his tests. They’ve been friends since Dave turned ten.” 

Karkat nodded, saying nothing else. Was that right? He didn’t know enough about Dave’s life to debunk that or not, but everything that came out of this woman’s mouth felt dubious and untrustworthy. The randomized way that her brain worked almost reminded him of Gamzee, but, then again, anything that he didn’t really understand and made no object sense reminded him of Gamzee, so this probably didn’t say much. If anything, it said more about him than Dave’s mother. No wonder Dave had left home to live with his brother instead, though; constantly walking on eggshells around her must’ve been exhausting. As for the comment that had driven him out of the room… Karkat would never mention it in conversation, but two and two had finally added up to four with it, even if that had thrown far more numbers into the mix, as well, but he supposed that he’d cross that bridge when he came to it, because, right now, he knew who had taught Dave to suture himself, and, despite the many questions that that filled his brain with, at least one mystery had been solved. 

Clearly, the situation at Dave’s parents’ home wasn’t ideal, and had something more to it that Karkat didn’t really understand, either due to his lack of human family knowledge or general attention to this whole thing, but it was probably connected to a lot about Dave that didn’t make sense to him. So Dave’s mother knew how to assess a serious wound and thought that knowledge essential enough to be passed down to her kid, but why? It couldn’t have been the school fights. As far as Karkat was inclined to believe, there had been no school fights. 

“I guess John was a very good influence, then.” He commented in passing, trying to sound friendly. “Just a smart kid who kept out of trouble, or were they picked on because of that?” 

“Oh, not at all; the children at their school were very sweet. Very polite, all of them.” 

Just as suspected. He offered Mrs. Strider a smile in response. Sure, he might not have been able to use her word as concrete confirmation of anything, given everything that she had said earlier, but it was a start. It was a step in favor of his suspicions, and he’d take it. So no fights, a mother that could suture wounds professionally, and a whole lot of random scars all over Dave’s body. That was an equation that equalled a missing variable, which Karkat couldn’t find. Did the knife comment fit in this, somehow? Had those scars been self-inflicted? Why did Dave’s mother act so normal when all of this really, truly wasn’t? Karkat watched her smile strangely at him, posing as sweet but borderline diabolical. She was fucked up and he didn’t understand her at all. 

“What do you do, Mrs. Strider?” 

He made his voice as harmless as he could. 

“I’m currently retired, but I used to be a nurse at the medical center.” 

That just explained a whole lot. 

“What about you, love? What do young little trolls even do in this day and age?” 

It took every ounce of self-restraint to not jab her in the face right now. So they were back to this same song and dance, then. Alright.

“Ah, I’m still in college, so no real work yet.” 

“Of course. You’re in Dave’s class, so, tell me, how is he doing?” 

“I think he’s doing okay, I mean, he’s really smart.” 

“Sure, but has he ever, you know, lashed out or acted… Strange?” 

He frowned. What the fuck?

“I’m sorry, but could you be more specific?” 

“Oh, no need; if you don’t know what I mean, then it hasn’t happened yet. How long has school started for you?” 

“Uh, it’ll be a month soon.” 

“A month.” She nodded as if considering it. “Give it some time, then.” 

Give what some time?, he wanted to ask, because this was starting to worry him, and it felt like the answer to every single question that he had about Dave; the ultimate truth, the last variable, the missing link to give everything sense. It was terrifying to think that he was so close to finding out the truth, and he really hoped that, once he did, his feelings for Dave and how he saw him wouldn’t change. He wanted to stand by Dave no matter what, even if that wasn’t very realistic, even if he had a reason not to. 

The mother made more small talk with him for a little while longer in the dead silence of the father’s presence and Dave’s absence. The father was a mysterious figure that Karkat hadn’t put together yet, or really understood, but he supposed that, without personal experience, he’d never know what a father figure was supposed to represent or even do in the family. Shouldn’t he be at work? Given how young he looked, he couldn’t also have been retired, so he probably had a job, even if he wasn’t there at the moment. Maybe he had the day off, or maybe he  _ didn’t _ have a job; Karkat had no idea, and with the guy’s resolution to remain silent, he’d never get the chance to ask, either. 

While politely picking at his plate, he simply conversed with Dave’s mother, hoping that Dave would come back soon and that he was alright, wherever he was. He glanced from the wall clock to the hallway and back in between breaks from staring at the mother’s face, watching the minutes trick past without Dave’s return, and having that fill his chest with concern. Dave wasn’t alright. His leg bounced, his eyes began watching the clock more than the mother’s face, and anxiety probably showed on his brow. He didn’t care; Dave was going through something and he wasn’t helping. He wasn’t there. His hands pushed some food around, stuffed his face with it, and went on to find something else to do, to stay busy, to attempt at refocusing his attention anywhere. 

To his relief, Dave came back fifteen minutes later. His posture was perfect, his saunter was back and his hands had stopped trembling. He sat down at his plate, greeted the table very briefly, and proceeded to actually eat the food in front of him this time, rather than just push it around. The mother rejoiced at his return, and went on speaking of whatever to anyone that would listen. Dave didn’t respond to her, too busy with his dish for it, so Karkat paid minimal attention to what she was saying only to keep her distracted. This was probably the worst lunch that he had ever had and seemed to last an eternity. When would they even be leaving? Would they, at all? His heart beat faster with the thought of being locked in here forever, and went out to Dave for living here for about eighteen years. 

His ability to keep on talking of trivialities with a human would run out soon, so they should probably start thinking of an escape route at this point. Maybe they could slip out the front door while the parents were distracted with the dishes, or maybe they could jump out of a window while locked in someone’s room, maybe Dave’s old bedroom. Maybe they could create a diversion and run out amid the confusion. Maybe… 

His train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. Both Dave and the mother got up at the same time to answer, though Dave was the only one who actually left the table for it, while the mother watched with a proud smile on her face. Dave crossed the living room on quick feet and pulled the door open just as fast, moving to step outside with the visitor instead of making room to let them in. Karkat had to crane his neck to see who had knocked, but didn’t need too much visual aid to realize that it was Dirk. His broad, six-foot-plus figure stood at the doorway with Dave’s face pushed into his chest and two arms locked tightly around him. Karkat had never seen these two be any kind of affectionate with one another, so seeing Dave hugging Dirk so desperately was new and unexpected. He watched with raised brows as Dirk reached a hand in his direction and motioned for him to come hither. Dirk opened his mouth to possibly accompany that with a verbal order, but the mother cut him off before he could. 

“Oh, my sweet prince, you’re here! What a wonderful day! Wait, I’ll fetch you a plate and you can join us for lunch.” 

“No, mom, it’s alright; I’m not here to stay, I’m just picking Dave and Karkat up.” Dirk spoke in his usual deep and insouciant tone, nodding at Karkat to emphasize his point. 

Just a second ago, Karkat thought that he’d be locked in here for another two days or so, which really put Dirk in a miraculous light right now. He got up from his seat, quickly excused himself, and crossed the living room to meet with the brothers. Dave refused to break the firm embrace, Dirk didn’t seem to mind that, the father looked very indifferent toward this whole thing and the mother was about to crumble into a million pieces. The amount of pain depicted on her face was too great to be real. Dirk easily greeted the father during the second it took Karkat to join him out on the porch, calling him Diego, of course, and receiving a light greet back. It was nice to know that the two had some sort of relationship between them, and weren’t cause for further discord within the family. 

“Oh, let me at least speak with you.” The mother said in clear distress, walking over to the three of them standing above the welcome mat. The crease in between her brows was deep enough to leave a mark behind. “I haven’t seen you in so long, my love. I’ve missed you very dearly. How are you? How’s the apartment?” 

“I’m alright, mom. It’s all under control. How are you? Have you looked into what we talked about?” 

At that, the mother squinted, allowing the concerned façade of hers to falter for a second, before being replaced by sheepish discomfort. Her entire existence was an act, and Dirk’s question was proof of that, if, apparently, they had been in touch this whole time, something she had boldly lied about. Karkat stood around awkwardly, watching the conversation that passed between two skyscrapers, high above his head. 

“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary, sweetheart. Can’t you see that I’m better already? I’ve been feeling like a million dollars.” 

“Yeah, maybe right now, but not in the long run.” 

At that, the mother’s smile faltered and her eyes became sharp, but only for a quick second. 

“You’re too good for me, love. I barely deserve you.” 

Dirk shrugged dismissively as a response and rounded an arm in Karkat’s vicinity, protective to coax without actually touching him. In retrospect, Karkat had seen parents do that to young children in some television shows before, with the intention to shield them from something and get them walking in the opposite direction of it. With his free arm, Dirk loosely held onto Dave, resting that arm across his back. The embrace remained.

“I knew you wouldn’t, so I made some appointments for you. I’ll text you the time and places later, but, right now, I have to go. Karkat has afternoon classes.” 

It was clear, from the perplexity on the mother’s face, that she really hated that. Whatever arrangements that Dirk had referred to obviously weren’t in her to-do list, and it annoyed her that Dirk was so adamant in seeing them through regardless. Incidentally, Karkat wasn’t surprised to learn that Dirk knew about his afternoon classes. What  _ didn’t _ Dirk know about? He was an outstanding outliner of the human race who easily crashed and burned all of his mother’s unnecessary lies about the nature of their relationship with very little, though carefully chosen words. He obviously hadn’t abandoned her, and, at this point, Karkat doubted that he had forgotten her birthday, either. 

The mother wasn’t exactly inclined to part from her children, but Dirk was a steadfast rock, and his resolution to leave wouldn’t be bent so easily. He bid his mother and Diego goodbye, despite her cries to get him to stay, and walked with both Dave and Karkat across the front yard, toward an ugly car parked at the curb, which Karkat had never seen before, and looked terribly unfinished. The paint was peeling off and the body seemed freshly put together, as if parts of different cars had been used to form the Frankenstein’s monster before him. Wasn’t Dirk a tinkerer? This must’ve been one of his ongoing projects, then. The three of them got into the car, waved at the mother, and left without looking back. A powerful engine roar was  _ not _ what Karkat expected to come out of this ugly shell with seats inside, though he probably should’ve expected it, if he knew Dirk in the slightest. On a parallel thought, the guy must’ve put together the motorcycle that he usually rode, too. Karkat wouldn’t be surprised to learn that.

Dirk drove in silence, Dave rested his forehead in a hand, and Karkat didn’t know what to say. He quietly watched Dave from the backseat, his face turned to glance out the window, offering nothing but the back of his ear to look at, plus a whole lot of silence. Was Dave alright? He had acted so out of the ordinary at his parents’ house that Karkat didn’t know what to make of that. What had Dave been so nervous about? Clearly, he had history with his mother, as evidenced by the knife comment, though Karkat couldn’t very well figure it out other than keep thinking that Dave had attacked someone with a sharp kitchen knife, which should’ve been a ridiculous supposition, but that, at this point, he’d probably believe anything. Maybe Dave’s nervousness didn’t have a big specific reason, rather multiple small ones that most likely revolved around his mother, since even Dirk seemed to want to shield Karkat from her. What was going on with her? What was going on with  _ anything? _ Karkat didn’t know a single thing anymore and didn’t open his mouth to try and make sense of it, either. He simply sat in the center of the backseat and watched the traffic lights overhead pass them by. 

“Bro, pull over.” Dave mumbled some time later, removing the hand from his head to relocate it onto the door handle. He threatened to push the door open, but hesitated for a second longer. “Right now.” 

Dirk passed Dave a brief glance from behind the wheel, but didn’t question or really said anything to that; he simply found the nearest place to park, one of those temporary spots up to fifteen minutes tops, and fit half of the car in it without giving a shit about parallel parking to get the entire car there. Considering just how on edge Dave was to pull the door open, Karkat doubted that he’d have waited for his brother to park properly before opening the door and launching half of his body out of it. Karkat leaned forward in between the two seats up front to look, but couldn’t actually see anything, only hear Dave emptying his stomach onto the asphalt while some people walking down the sidewalk shot him weird glances. 

Dave remained hunched over for a good, long minute, heaving and breathing while calming down, taking his time with it. Dirk did nothing about that, only glanced at the rear-view and wing mirrors every now and again to make sure that the cars in the lane closest to him were safely driving around him. Once Dave was done, he wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt, sat back down, again fully into his seat, and pulled the door closed. 

They drove off without ever mentioning that. 

Not too long later, Dirk pulled up at the university campus and unlocked the doors for Karkat to leave. Karkat slid across the backseat toward the sidewalk door, but, just as he reached for the handle, Dirk spoke to him, making him pause and stay a minute longer to listen. 

“Karkat, hey.” Dirk spoke while turning around in his seat, resting an arm as a bridge in the gap between his and Dave’s seats in order to comfortably look at Karkat. He obviously didn’t mean to seem threatening, but the size of his biceps would always intimidate Karkat. “Sorry about today. I hope you weren’t caught in anything too unmanageable.” 

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me.” 

At the last part of his answer, he passed the back of Dave’s head a pointed look, hoping to communicate that to Dirk without having to say it out loud. He wasn’t the one in trouble, and would absolutely be fine, but he couldn’t say the same about Dave, so, maybe, Dirk could help in that regard. Dirk nodded his understanding back to him and kept it mute, which Karkat appreciated. He touched Dave’s shoulder in passing before finally opening the door. 

“See you, Dave.” 

“See you, man.” 

With one last glance back at Dirk’s shades, he left the car. 

Class hadn’t started for too long before he arrived, and his friends didn’t care to ask questions that they already knew the answer to, always assuming that Karkat was with Dave when not with them, so he managed to walk in and sit in his place without anyone paying him too much mind. His ears weren’t tuned into this lecture at all, and his eyes didn’t focus on it, either; all he could think about was everything that had just happened and how he could find out more about it, how he could get in touch with the missing link. The mother had given him some good information to work with, but he’d never speak to her again; the father wasn’t even an option; Dirk probably knew more about what was happening than he let on, but he was a very private man, too, and certainly wouldn’t let Karkat meddle in family affairs; and Dave was absolutely the last person that Karkat would ever want to ask about this to, which only left him with one last name involved into all of this, who surely knew something about it that he could use on his research, but that he didn’t personally know. He pulled out his phone, got onto Facebook and typed John into the search bar. 

Naturally, Facebook brought him dozens of Johns from all over, and wasn’t a very good help at all. To find this guy without a last name, he’d have to funnel the search somehow, which probably started with Dave’s friend list. Surely, Dave had friended John before, so Karkat got onto his profile and searched his friends for it. As expected, a John Egbert, student at Rice University, came up. He tapped onto the guy’s profile and checked it out for a while, read his posts, the events that he had confirmed presence at, the comments people left on his wall; all in all, John was a very bland party guy with a lot of friends and tagged photos of himself drinking from solo cups. He didn’t seem like the genius nerd that Dave’s mother had talked about, but Karkat couldn’t really take her word on anything, and this was probably still the right person. He scrolled down John Egbert’s profile without a clear idea of what to do next. Nothing on this guy’s page linked him to Dave at all, so the only way to get any information out of him would be speaking with him, but how? Karkat couldn’t just friend the guy and hit him up with a hey, remember that non-ex-matesprit you had some time ago? What the fuck is up with his family? First, the guy wouldn’t add him back, anyway, and, second, if John eventually did, he’d get blocked immediately. He sighed, leaning back onto his seat. 

“Sollux, you’re a successful hacker.” He started loosely, turning to his friend. “How would you hack someone’s sympathy to make them speak to you?” 

“Did you and Dave have a fight?” 

“No, I’m talking about a stranger here. I need a stranger to talk to me about some personal stuff, but I don’t have the time, energy or interest to become a close friend first.” 

“Get them drunk.” 

His eyes lit up. 


	13. Two parties in a row

From one look at the guy’s Facebook profile, Karkat knew that getting John drunk wouldn’t be the most complicated thing in the world, given how many parties he had confirmed presence at just this week, so maybe Karkat could just crash one to speak with this guy. That couldn’t be too hard. He checked the events on John’s page and noticed that one of them would be tonight, at an upscale house not half an hour from campus. Opening the address up on Maps, he checked the surroundings of this place, expecting there to be dozens of lined up houses next to this one, forming an expensive suburb, though that wasn’t exactly what he saw; the houses were of a much higher scale than he had previously imagined, and had copious amounts of green all around, with very little walls to protect them, and, instead, beautiful, tall fences. This one in particular reminded him of Gatsby’s mansion, except not exactly as extravagant, and a little more modest, if mansions happened to be modest at all. He pinned the address and made a point to show up about an hour after the scheduled start of the party, to catch the guests moderately drunk already, and not have to wait too long for John to get wasted. It’d be a lot easier to jump those gates unnoticed once the party was relatively full, too. 

His plan was simple, and he knew that it’d need some tweaking later on, but when he got there, he didn’t know just how badly he had misjudged the security of this place. The tall entrance gates were guarded by two bulky humans and the fence was too smooth to climb, which meant that he’d have to find another way in. With the hood of his jacket covering up the horns, and the black of his clothes mingling with the darkness, he skirted up the sidewalk to a neighbor house and scrutinized it. The fence here had far more intricate designs on its poles than the other one, making it an easier climb, and, peering in through the bars, he saw a tall hedge separating one lawn from the other, which meant he could probably just slip through it. Probably. He’d try, anyway, hoping that the inhabitants of this place wouldn’t notice anything moving in the shadows,  _ if _ there were any people living here at all. The absence of any cars on the driveway pointed to a negative, but the garage doors were closed, so maybe they were all just stored inside. Karkat wouldn’t know, but would have to take his chances either way. 

He walked down the sidewalk, along the front yard of this house, until the fence of his actual objective looked like a white-and-gold bar, completely blocking off the security guards inside it from view, and hoping that the laws of visibility went both ways in this scenario. He took his shoes off, slipped them through the bars and left them sitting on the lawn of the house on the other side; it’d be easier to climb this barefoot with his claws. He put a foot up, rested it on some black metal leaves, reached a hand up to the black metal flowers nearer the locked gates, and started the climb. His head screamed for him to be careful and take his time, because this was a tall climb and he was a small troll who hadn’t done this in a while, but, at the same time, his heart was beating a hundred miles an hour, afraid to get caught or be seen in any way, to fuck up and be able to get traced back here, making him want to climb this fast and get over it soon. He tried to ignore that eagerness in favor of focus, however difficult that ended up being, and managed to get to the top and over relatively quickly, having the impatience to get down very fast wash over him with that, making him want to jump straight down and ignore the consequences. Rationally speaking, he knew that he’d break something doing that, which was the only thing that actually stopped him from doing it, and had him carefully climbing down instead. He did, however, jump off about six feet from the ground to no negative repercussions, picked up his shoes and rushed far into someone else’s property. 

About three quarters down along the hedge that separated one backyard from the other, he stopped and laid down onto his stomach to peer through the lower branches and make sure that his supposition was correct, and nothing else stood in his way now but some leaves. That, unfortunately, was not the case. He had misjudged the situation here and not noticed that the smooth fence of the other house circled it entirely, because the edge was so tall that it practically swallowed up the fence and pissed him off. He sighed out in frustration, but kept his anger contained otherwise, as not to get pointed out. Fuck, he’d have to dig up a hole to get there like some filthy criminal. So be it. With his shoes still off and claws out, he buried hands and feet into the ground to dig himself a hole. It was stupid and absolutely ridiculous, similarly to everything else in his life, which only made sense, and angered him further as he got the entirety of his outfit coated in dust and dirt. Whatever; as if a bunch of drunk nineteen-year-olds would fucking notice that. 

From deep within the bottom of the hedge, he dug up a hole underneath the bottom of the fence and squeezed himself through, caked in dirt and decorated with leaves. He honestly didn’t give a shit about that, and was just glad that it was over. The other side looked a mess, though, and very suspicious with piles of dirt everywhere, so he reached underneath the fence again and cleaned up some of the other person’s lawn to clear off suspicion. The family there would probably only notice that something was off about their hedge if they went looking for it, which made Karkat confident enough to leave the hole and finish covering it up from this side, as well. To his luck, some trees and decorative bushes on this side had concealed most of his work from the drunk children that laughed and stuttered nonsense in the backyard, and had him pretty much in the clear for now. Still kneeling down into concealment, he dusted himself off and put his shoes on, hating how it felt to have dirty feet in clean socks. It made him cringe hard, so he decided to not think about it anymore, and watch the party instead. 

Nobody hanging out here seemed to be John Egbert, which meant that he was probably inside with most of the others, and Karkat would have to worm his way in there somehow if he wanted to speak with the guy. He got up from behind the bushes and quickly stepped into the shadow of the house next, away from the lampposts that illuminated the backyard and, consequently, the drunk teenagers, as not to be spotted. Glancing around the perimeters of the house, there didn’t seem to be any other doors out here that led inside, so he’d have to go out there and pass through the back porch, where most of the humans were, to get in. The thought had him shivering, but it was the only way; he’d have to risk it. This far in, he’d have to do it. One, two big breaths and he stepped out of the shadow, hoping no one would notice him too much, which they didn’t, too drunk to actually look around themselves or really see anything straight, he guessed. That was good, and it reminded him of last Friday, how dumb and insane he had acted from just a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. He wondered if anyone here ever had any urges to claim and destroy government property when completely wasted, or if it was really just him. Maybe alcohol killed the inhibitions of his stupidity and had him free to be as dumb as he truly was on the inside, when, normally, he’d try to hide that side of himself from the world. 

He stepped further into the backyard, watching the little groups of humans laughing, drinking and probably passing blunts around without giving a single shit about him, not even a glance at his direction, which accidentally boosted his confidence enough to get him through the rest of the way to the porch, presented in a semicircle from where he had been hiding. No one here was sane enough to notice a fucking troll crashing the party, and he was a very big fan of that concept; even the kids grouped up on the back porch didn’t care to look at him, and he was pretty confident that not a single soul saw him open the door and walk right through. He thought to himself, you know, maybe the Establishment wasn’t all that bad. 

The back door led to a very big and expensive-looking kitchen, all coupled with shiny black-and-white tiles, smooth counters, wide walls and an island in the center that was about three times the size of the one at Dave’s parents’ house, except this one had a huge beer keg on it surrounded by empty solo cups to fuel the entirety of the party. Some kids were coming and going from here, obviously only to refill their cups at the keg, so Karkat gingerly made his way over to it and took an empty cup from the side, just so he could look like everyone else and fit in. To make this playing pretend a little more believable, he filled the cup with some tap water and sipped from it. Yes, he was already an expert at blending in. Now, to find John Egbert in what looked to be a three-story house with dozens of rich college students breaking down in the living room; how would he even go about that? Sipping on his tap water, he leaned onto the counter by the sink and absently watched a small queue form at the keg. John was probably on the dance floor with everybody else, which made it a little difficult to get him alone for a chat, so Karkat would have to improvise. He could get in there, jump a little, scan the room for John and watch him from the sidelines until he decided to leave for--oh. Wasn’t that John right there, refilling his cup at the keg? Judging from how easy laugher left him and how much of a hard time he was having not swaying from side to side, Karkat would say that this was the perfect opportunity for some schmoozing. With his cup of water in hand, he dived right in. 

He’d play a character for this one, some guy that John had met before, but only briefly, at a class or another, who had tried to make friends with John and very much looked up to him while John had barely even noticed his existence and promptly forgotten about him once their brief, but weekly, encounters ended. He wouldn’t speak of details, because that was always risky, and he didn’t know what kind of classes John had from Monday to Friday, or what he was even taking at Rice, so he’d just keep it all very broad and open to interpretation. If anything happened to go out of his way or dump him in some hot water, he’d just use the age old distraction, “don’t tell me you forgot!”, which promptly turned the tables and put the spotlight above John instead. It was fool proof. 

As John refilled his cup, Karkat swiftly sidled up next to him. 

“What’s up, John? Didn’t know you’d be coming here, man.” 

His voice was level and his posture appeared relaxed, despite how badly his heart raced and how nervous he really was, in hopes that this worked out as planned instead of landing him in trouble. At his side, John, who was a lot taller from up close, gave him a surprised look that was quickly followed by a wide and toothy grin. 

“Hey, dude! I actually wasn’t coming tonight, but since my Calculus exam got rescheduled, I could make it.” 

He grinned; John was as dumb and drunk as he had hoped him to be, which was a step in the right direction, and made him a lot more confident about his plan now. He wasn’t nearly as nervous as a second ago with that.

“That’s awesome. I know we didn’t really have the chance to get to know each other too much in, in Calculus, so I’m glad I caught you here tonight.” 

“Yeah, for real.” John spoke absently, bringing his cup up for a sip, completely oblivious to half of what Karkat had just told him. This was truly perfect, and put a perpetual grin on Karkat’s face. 

Behind John, the queue to get to the keg pushed him out of the way, making him realize that he had finished refilling his cup and just stood there afterwards, blocking everybody from it. He briefly apologized and stepped aside, closer to Karkat now. 

“It’s a little crowded in here, so why don’t we talk outside?” He offered, trying to make himself sound innocent, even though he knew that John wouldn’t have noticed a single difference in this scenario if he had suddenly sprouted wings and hovered around in the air. 

“Yeah, man, sure.” 

They both left the house together, crossed the back porch full of people and stood off to the side of the wide backyard, closer to some wooden benches around a small fountain. John promptly took a seat, sipping lavishly from his cup as Karkat sat down next to him, holding onto his own solo cup full of tap water. Now that he had John drunk and alone, he could ask him anything. 

“Are you from here, dude?” 

John brough his cup back down to answer. 

“Here, like, Houston, or whatever this neighborhood is? ‘Cause I’m actually from Washington, not Texas. Not DC, either, just Washington, the state, you know. Up there in the corner.” 

“Really?” Was that genuine truth or drunken gibberish? “Why did you come to Houston, of all places?” 

“Because my dad got a job here in ‘98, some construction contract that should’ve only taken, like, two to three years tops, he said, but he really liked it here, so we stayed.” John shrugged. 

“So you grew up here, then.” 

If John had really met Dave in middle school, like both Dave and his mother had said, then this story checked out. 

“Yeah, I grew up in Meyerland.” 

Karkat didn’t know what that meant, but took it that it was probably the neighborhood that both Dave and John had both grown up in and met at. If so, he had been there just this afternoon. 

“No way, me too.” He lied. “Where did you study?” 

“For real, dude? God, that’s crazy. I went to Lovett, but you probably didn’t. We had Calculus together, right? Last semester?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you probably went to St. Thomas, then.” 

“That’s exactly it.” 

John nodded to himself. 

“Everyone here’s from private schools; I kind of feel left out.” 

“What happened to your public school friends?”

“Well, I just had one real friend, Dave, who I think goes to HU now. We haven’t talked in a while, so I don’t really know what he’s taking, but it’s probably, like, Photography or History or whatever.” 

“History?” 

He had no idea Dave was into that. 

“Yeah, probably; I don’t know, but he was a huge history nerd. Loved archeology and ancient ruins and, uh, asbestos, probably. He was something else; totally didn’t look like it.” 

“What did he look like?” 

This question was entirely self-indulgent. 

“Half-Mexican, kinda short, blonde and too cool to be there. Like, seeing him for the first time, I thought he was gonna bully my Ghostbusters shirt.” 

Short? Alright, height was subjective to a certain degree, sure, but if Dave was considered short, then Karkat and his friends all fell into a subcategory here. Tall people really had no self-awareness. 

“What happened to him?” 

“I don’t know; we lost contact after high school, but I see him liking memes on Facebook every now and again, so I know he’s alive.” 

He tried to keep a grin from breaking out at that. 

“Guess you weren’t very close, then.” 

“No, we super were. Seriously. I was over all the time because my dad worked long hours, and we did a lot of stuff together after school. He was my first kiss, dude. We were for real.” 

The last two sentences had his eyes widening and ears perking up. This was exactly what he was here for. 

“Really? How was it?” 

“Was weird. Like, looking back, I know it wasn’t very impressive, but, at the time, it was crazy. He kissed me first, ‘cause good-looking people are confident enough to just do these things, you know, ask people out and confess and whatever, which is insane, but he knew how to work with what he had, which was a lot, and we ended up unofficially together for a while. I, uh, I hope it’s okay to talk about this gay shit with you. You won’t really tell anyone, right?” 

“No, not at all; you’re good.” 

His reassurance didn’t seem to have worked very much, though, because John still looked a little apprehensive at it, so he went the extra mile for this one, and this one only. 

“I’m dating a guy, dude. It’s fine.” 

John visibly exhaled, breaking out into a smile. 

“Thank God, man. It’s like everyone here is straight and it’s really exhausting. STEM needs to be taken over by the gays stat.” 

“Real shit.” 

“Hey, didn’t we take Numerical Analysis together last year?” 

“We super did. I’m surprised you remembered it.” 

“Of course I remember that shitshow, dude. Cheers to the worst group project of my life.” John spoke while raising his cup in the air, and having Karkat do the same before they both sipped from their respective ones. 

“I guess you and Dave broke up, then.” He continued, coaxing John into speaking more about this, now that they had bonded on a minimal level. John nodded. 

“Yeah, he was a little too much for me, and I don’t mean the clingy stuff, ‘cause that was actually kinda nice; I know people hate it, but I don’t, whatever; that problem was that he had, like… I don’t know, man; I can’t even explain it, but it was scary. He had something going on that really freaked me out.” 

His heart skipped a beat. 

“What do you mean?” 

John shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He looked a mixture of unsure and uncomfortable. 

“I don’t know, it was just weird, like something about him was always off, you know? I think it had to do with his parents, because they were very intense and off putting, especially his mom. He was very close to her and they were both weird in similar ways, but that’s something you only notice after a while. It’s not very obvious. Like, for example, he kept telling me that he had an older brother, but I never saw the guy, and I was  _ always _ over, every single day, almost. He kept talking about him, about the stuff they did together that weekend, but, as far as I know, this brother never existed. I think Dave wasn’t right in the head.” 

Karkat squinted. It felt as if John had really been getting at something there, until he spoke of Dirk and completely derailed his theory. If John had never seen Dirk, then where had he been this whole time? He was considerably older than Dave, yeah, but not old enough to be living on his own ever since Dave’s birth. This didn’t make sense at all. 

“Are you sure you never saw him?” 

“Never, not once.” 

Huh. 

“That’s weird.”

“I know, right?” John shook his head and knocked back the rest of his drink. “Wanna hit the dance floor with me, dude?” 

“No, I actually gotta take a piss.” 

That wasn’t even a logical excuse, but it just happened to be the first thing to come to mind to get him to leave. John nodded his understanding of it, though, so it must’ve been convincing, somehow. 

“Alright, that’s cool. I’ll see you around, then.” John spoke while getting up from the bench and starting off toward the back porch. 

“Later, John.”

John waved at him before leaving, probably to never be in his life again. 

This encounter had ended up going a lot better than he had imagined it, which was a big relief, even if he hadn’t really learned anything new about Dave, and only acquired more questions regarding his brother. Where had Dirk been for eighteen years? Leaning back onto his seat, Karkat drank some more tap water in contemplation. Maybe Dirk used to live with his father, and that first comment he made about the guy, last Friday night, indicating some distance between the two of them, had really only been Dirk being cross with Karkat to get him to shut up about it. He knew that Dirk’s father was dead now, and had left him a considerable amount of money, so that was most likely why Dirk wasn’t inclined to speak of him. That made sense. Now, Dave, though. Dave was a mystery. 

As if on cue with his thoughts, his phone buzzed with a text message from his matesprit wondering if they were still up for dinner tonight. After everything that had happened at Dave’s parents’ house, he had highly doubted that Dave still wanted to see him for dinner, but, apparently, he was wrong. He texted back with a positive, asking what time he should come by. Dave said whenever, so he put his phone away and left the party through the hole under the fence. 

Half an hour later, he was scrutinizing his own reflection on the mirror of Dave’s building’s elevator. He was completely covered in dirt and grass, with black clothes more brown than black, gray skin powdered in light gold, and dirty feet uncomfortably itching in clean socks that weren’t so clean anymore. In retrospect, John must’ve been far more plastered than he looked, or even sounded to have been for someone who hadn’t noticed all of this. Karkat took his jacket off and shook it, brushed a hand down his own shirt, patted down the legs of his pants and kicked his shoes off, deciding to carry them instead. Yeah, that looked weird, but he sincerely could not stand these socks right now, so he left the elevator with them in hand, and used his free one to knock on the door, hoping that Dave wouldn’t mind that. 

Not long after, Dave opened the door for him wearing a smile that immediately made his chest warmer, and the rest of his body very much want to kiss it off of the face before him. Dave was that powerful. Without a word, and cutting Dave off, too, he dropped the shoes inside and stood on tiptoes to seal their mouths together. Dave kissed him back around a grin, holding onto his sides with both hands, and he  _ fucking loved this kid so much. _ It was an aggressively passionate thought that hit him at full, very out of the blue, making his heart explode up in his throat, so incredibly glad to have ever met Dave at all, the best part of his life, the knight to his king, the cream of his éclair. He was so over the moon with this guy that his brain was reduced to making cheesy comparisons of their relationship to fancy food. This was a new low. 

Parting from the boy who made everything worth it, he grinned, meeting with the most gorgeous grin in return. 

“Hey.” Dave greeted him easily, stepping back to let him in. 

He took the invitation and walked past his matesprit with a hand on his chest, feeling the design there, a pink heart on a white t-shirt. He had a feeling to have seen this one before, maybe last week while rummaging through Dave’s wardrobe for something to wear. This hoodie, that Dave currently wore, had also been one of his almost picks that day, though he had never actually seen it on Dave. On a second thought, he hadn’t seen Dave wear anything but long sleeves and jeans so far, despite having a wardrobe full of clothes. Must be tough knowing what to wear with so many choices readily available. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” 

“I’m good.” Dave spoke while closing the door behind the two of them. “Why are you covered in dirt?” 

His cheeks colored. 

“Well,  _ clearly _ I’ve  _ always _ been covered in dirt, only you’ve failed to notice that all of the other times before, so, really, you’re the one who should be embarrassed here, not me.” 

Dave frowned. 

“Guess I never knew you were a moleman, sorry about that. Did you go spelunking this afternoon, dude?” 

“To be very honest right now, Dave, I’ve never heard that word before, and, judging by how stupid ‘spelunking’ sounds, I’m not sure it’s a real word at all. I’m also afraid to say yes to that, in case it turns out to be real and mean something bad.” 

Dave grinned. 

“Oh my God, seriously? You’ve never watched those white people spelunking the Puerto Princesa on History Channel?” 

He hesitated.

“I don’t like how you said that. Why were they on the History Channel?” 

“Because they were spelunking the Puerto Princesa.” 

“Don’t do that to her.” 

Dave snorted. 

“Alright, let me try that again. Did you go digging your own grave this afternoon?” 

“No, but, you know, the truth wasn’t too far from that. I met John.” 

Dave’s brows creased. 

“What John?” 

“Your friend John. I met him at a party, and I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I’ve been keeping a lot from you that I think you should know.” 

Dave remained silent at that, so Karkat took his hand and pulled him toward the couch. 

“First of all, I really like you. I really, really do, Dave; I care about you a lot, and that’s why I’m doing this, because I don’t want to hide anything from you. It’s not fair.” Plus, Dirk would do it if he didn’t, so he might as well. 

They both sat down next to each other, but Dave cut him off before he could continue. 

“Just tell me it’s nothing too terrible that I’ll lose my mind over it. I mean, it’s John, so I probably will anyway, and it’s a lot, but tell me you mean that as a lot of very small things that don’t actually matter, instead of one big thing that’ll kill me in one hit.” 

He pondered. 

“It’s nothing bad, I’ll tell you that. Look, it’s just a bunch of stuff that I did last week and lied about to you because I didn’t know what I was doing, or what we were, and I didn’t, you know, want to talk about it. It’s not terrible, I mean, okay, one of those things is that, on Friday, when I came visit you, I was super drunk, and I broke into the subway to get here, and, actually, curfew goes up at nine on week _ days,  _ and I said it was at ten on Fridays, which it isn’t. That’s on week _ ends. _ Also, I got in trouble for staying here all weekend because I broke curfew to do that, and called your brother to basically bail me out of it, which was mortifying and I never want to think about again.” 

That was the bulk of it, which had him off the hook with Dirk, but still wasn’t absolutely everything. There was the call yesterday, pondering whether or not he should end everything with Dave, which only involved Dirk, and that, if Dave knew about, wouldn’t change a thing, only upset him, so keeping that from him shouldn’t qualify as a harmful omission. Karkat wasn’t obligated to tell Dave everything, only what, to his judgement, would be beneficial for Dave to know, as opposed to not knowing, which wasn’t yesterday’s call. 

Dave’s brows furrowed. 

“That’s such a mess. Why are you covered in dirt?” 

“Because I had to dig a hole in someone’s yard to get to John. I wanted to meet him.” 

“Why? Karkat, listen, I don’t really give a shit about what happened last Friday, or last weekend, ‘cause we got it sorted out, right. Doesn’t matter if you were hammered at the time, or broke some Laws to get here; we’re over that shit. We talked yesterday, and we’re good, yeah? Then, today…” Dave paused briefly, turning his face a bit to the side. Even behind aviators, he felt the need to avoid his gaze elsewhere for this. “I don’t want today to count. I was hoping we could overwrite it with a nice time here, you know, and forget about this afternoon, so just tell me that whatever you and John talked about isn’t important and I don’t actually need to know about any of it.” 

“Well, it’s probably nothing you don’t already know, and if you don’t want me to tell you what it was, I won’t. I just wanted to let you know that I met him, ‘cause, I don’t know. Just feels wrong doing this behind your back.” He shrugged. “Sorry.” 

“No, it’s cool. I don’t, I really don’t wanna know, so.” 

He nodded. 

“Alright. Let’s rewrite today with some dinner, then.” 

A small smile curled the corners of Dave’s lips at that. 

“Yeah; I was thinking spaghetti, but, get this, instead of meatballs, you could have grub, uh, balls? Is that right? I don’t remember the scientific name of its roots, my b.” 

He raised a brow. 

“I’ve heard of grubloaf, but I’m not sure about grubballs or if I’d even want that in my mouth.” 

“Hm. I’m pretty sure it’s balls, dude.” 

“Are you confident about that?” 

“Yeah. It’s in my fridge, so let’s see who wins.” 

What? Dave bought troll food and stored it in his fridge? Karkat didn’t even know that this kind of stuff could be found for sale around town in regular human shops. This was insane. He got up from the couch and followed Dave into the kitchen, where Dave pulled the fridge door open and took out a small plastic container that had a strange brand name on top with the word “grubball” right on it, in both English and troll. It was almost an otherworldly sight to see, as in, it should not belong in this plane of existence at all. 

“Huh. Grubballs. I guess that’s a thing.” 

“And tonight will be the first time you’ll have it.” 

“Where did you get that?”

“At a supermarket in River Oaks. Bro said they wouldn’t have anything like that around here, and he was right.” 

He nodded, unsure what River Oaks was, but, if he were in a game show, he’d guess that it was a town. 

“You didn’t have to go so far just to buy that for me.” 

“We didn’t go far, man; River Oaks is just a few streets down from here.” 

“Right, yeah, well. I never learned local geography in school or actually went around too much, so all I really know is the HU and 27-A.” 

“Really? Man, we gotta go around sometime. Maybe when I get my license.” 

“Is that what you needed your birth certificate for?” 

The entirety of what happened this afternoon had been cancelled, yes, but hopefully this specific thing was okay to talk about, because he was still very curious to know what had driven Dave all the way back to his parents’ house. Dave nodded in reply, putting the grubball pack down onto the counter. 

“Yeah. Bro’s been teaching me some stuff, but I can’t actually get a license without these kind of documents.” 

“Right.” 

Dirk teaching his little brother how to drive. Hadn’t he said before that the two of them weren’t very close? That must’ve been a big fat lie, then, if Dave looked up to him as a sort of mentor, took driving classes from him and called him during emergencies. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Dirk had showed up to rescue the both of them earlier today not long after Dave had come back from his break at what had probably been either a bathroom or his old bedroom. Dave had put his complete confidence in his brother to come pick him up and soothe him, and Dirk had delivered without a moment’s hesitation, which really made Karkat think that they were a lot closer than Dirk personally considered them to be. Tangentially, the way that these two had acted today, plus the way that Dirk had always acted toward Karkat ever since meeting him could be compared to how parents and their children generally acted around each other in human TV shows. That explained why Dirk had never turned Karkat away when he had called with a problem or other, even though they had only met a few days ago; Dirk was inclined to protect and help him by associating him with Dave, the little brother who was currently under his roof, attention and protection. By dating a guy with a caring older brother he had not only gotten himself a matesprit, but a formidable guardian, too. That was empowering to know. 

Dave did his best to make a good dinner, while Karkat would’ve liked to believe that he helped somehow, instead of getting in Dave’s way and making navigation in the kitchen worse than it had to be. They figured out how to prepare the grubballs together by reading and translating some troll and English jargon printed on the plastic, all broken up and nearly incomprehensible from the awkward packaging. Karkat’s knowledge of troll language wasn’t all that vast, because they barely taught it in school, and Dave had never even seen it before, or known that it existed, which didn’t help their case. Dammek was the only person that Karkat knew who could actually read and speak in troll without much difficulty, but he wasn’t about to call the guy for this. It wasn’t all that difficult to make the instructions out, anyway, and dinner wasn’t a life or death situation, so he was fine. He didn’t need Dammek for this, or literally anything else. 

The spaghetti, like most human foods, turned out bland for Karkat but not completely inedible, which was about what he expected of it. Dave seemed to like it, though, and since he had given his all to make it good, Karkat praised the taste to make him feel better. The grubballs, on the other hand, were different, and actually had their own taste, separate from everything else that Karkat had had before. If he happened to eat this again, but blindfolded, he’d know immediately what it was. All in all, he didn’t hate it, but didn’t love it, either, though he’d definitely take it over any type of human food out there, because at least it tasted of something. Maybe, if he had this enough times, he’d start to like it. He wondered why they had never had that in school. 

While Dave did the dishes, Karkat excused himself for a quick shower, just to wash off the dirt and put on some clean clothes to lounge in the apartment without worry. As he reached the hallway, he noticed that, at the end of it, Dirk’s bedroom door was left ajar, allowing for some light to filter out of the room and brighten up half of the hallway carpet, meaning he was probably in there doing his own thing. Strangely, Karkat’s first thought in regards to that was how safe it made him feel to know that, should anything happen, him and Dave had Dirk right there to protect them. Was this how children felt in regards to their parents? He took this question into the bathroom and dwelled on it in the shower. 

Being a human and having a family must’ve been nice. 

Wearing some of his own clothes that had stayed with Dave from previous visits, and that Dave had washed and ironed for him, he joined his matesprit on the couch for a movie or two. One seat was big enough for the both of them, he decided, sitting down next to Dave with his head nestled on Dave’s shoulder and Dave’s arm wrapped around his back, pulling him closer. Dave’s chin rested atop his head, the warmth of the body half-below, half-next to him made his eyes droop, and these clothes were too soft and comfortable to keep him from falling asleep in the arms of the boy that he loved most. Fleetingly, he thought that maybe the human’s side wasn’t so bad, and would actually make him feel better than taking the trolls’ side, if it’d always be nice and warm like this. The trolls’ side had done nothing but make him miserable, while this, right here, was probably the closest that he would ever get to having a family, and it felt good. It felt safe. He couldn’t think of a single reason not to side with Dave and Dirk, when all they had done was make him feel loved and validated. 

When he woke up again, he realized two things: one, that he had fallen asleep in the middle of War Dogs before getting the chance to know how Efraim and David’s business went wrong in Afghanistan, and two, that Dave wasn’t here anymore. The living room was dark, with only the dull glow of the muted television casting some light onto the couch, as well as a soft, yellow glimmer coming from deep within the hallway, probably Dirk’s bedroom. Quiet, muffled voices also echoed from that same direction; a conversation passing between the brothers in the middle of the night. Karkat probably wasn’t meant to listen to that, but his curiosity was stronger than his sense of moral judgement, and had him getting up from the couch to approach the hallway and peek into it. From closer up, he could listen in easier, and even see Dave’s legs from the knee down sitting at the edge of Dirk’s bed, pointed at the rest of the room, probably where Dirk was standing. Karkat remained in silence and perked his ears. 

“Did you use to have them a lot?” Dirk asked, deep voice low, as was custom of him, but with a hint of emotion in it this time; something soft, like concern, that almost sounded foreign in his tone. 

“Yeah, but it’s been a while. This is the first time since I moved here, and I know it’s because I went there earlier, which was stupid, and I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have.” 

“It’s fine, little man. You don’t have to go back for anything now.” 

“I know, and I know you could’ve done that for me, too, but it just didn’t feel right. That was  _ my _ bad, not yours, you know? I thought I could handle it. Fuck, I really did.” 

“Hey, it’s alright.” 

“Man.” Dave sighed, tucking his toes under his feet. “Shit. That’s so fucked up, I mean, dammit, it’s been a year. It’s been a whole fucking year, man. Fuck!” 

“Dave, hey. Hey. Look at me. Here. It’s fine. Look, you’re not going back there. You don’t have to.” 

“I know.” 

Dave’s feet shuffled around, bouncing a little, resting atop one another. Karkat could see up to his knees, but not his hands. 

“Come here.” 

Dave did, and, when he got up, Karkat saw that his hands were clasped onto his upper arms, hugging himself. He crossed the room, disappearing completely inside of it. 

“Give me your hand. Listen, everything’s fine. You’ll be alright. Trust me, little dude; I got you. I promise.” 

“I know, Bro, I’m just an idiot, man. Almost twenty and coming to you because of some dumbass nightmare. That’s what kids do.” 

“Doesn’t matter, dude; shit’s scary. Remember Dana’s house? Gave me bad dreams all the time.” 

“Huh, I always slept fine there. Guess my dreams passed onto you.” 

Dirk snorted. Karkat literally couldn’t picture a grin, or even a simple smile on his face that didn’t look completely forced and edging on terrifying to go with that. 

“Keep doing that, then, ‘cause it looks like it works.” 

“Nah, it’s cool. I’ll handle it.” 

“Alright.” 

Karkat heard some shuffling of bare feet on carpet, probably moving toward the door. This was usually when he would leave camp and hide out, as not to get his cover blown, but, this time, he decided not to do that. He stayed in place instead, allowing for Dave to eventually spot him, to know that he had heard some of what had passed here. It didn’t matter that he’d probably get in trouble for it, because keeping it a secret would’ve made him feel much worse. 

“Thanks for earlier, Bro. And, uh, sorry about all of this.” 

“Don’t worry.”

Dave showed up behind the open portion of the door, taking the handle with a hand, but with his face still turned aside to continue looking deep into the room. The aviators that usually covered his eyes rested atop his head now. This was Karkat’s last chance to run, but he didn’t take it. 

“Goodnight, Bro.”

“Goodnight, little man.” 

Dave pulled the door further open, and turned forward to leave, meeting with Karkat’s wide reds under the faint yellow of Dirk’s bedroom light. They saw each other right away, but said nothing. He simply stood in place and watched as Dave stepped out of the room, pulled the door behind himself, but didn’t close it entirely, consciously choosing to leave it ajar, as it seemed to always be. Dave crossed the hallway over to him with the aviators still out of his face and stopped in front of him, offering him a small, friendly smile that almost looked apologetic. 

“Did I wake you?” 

He shook his head in reply, not following that up with anything verbal, thus allowing room for Dave to take his hand and speak some more. 

“C’mon, let’s sleep in my bed.” 

Following Dave four steps into the hallway, he passed Dirk’s bedroom door one last glance before entering Dave’s. 

He tucked himself under the soft, heavy blankets of Dave’s bed as his matesprit closed the door and proceeded to remove the hoodie from his shoulders. So Dave’s room could have the door closed, but Dirk’s, apparently, couldn’t. Did this mean anything? Still in the dark, because neither of them had deemed necessary to turn on the overhead light, Dave dropped the hoodie onto a chair and got in bed with him, sliding across the mattress until their bodies met, and they could hold onto each other. He buried his face on the crook of Dave’s neck with an arm tossed around his waist and had Dave cuddle him back with a hand in between his shoulder blades and a forearm on his back. Breathing in the delicate scent of apples and cinnamon, he felt his heart double in size. 


	14. Two plus two equals four

Watching Dave move around the kitchen to make the two of them breakfast, his mind stirred. He thought of yesterday, of the look of complete terror on Mrs. Strider’s face at the sight of her son holding a knife, how terribly the events in that house had affected Dave, and what John had told him about that family, how off they all seemed to be, which was true; he had noticed that straight away. Dave couldn’t have stabbed someone, though, could he? He had been attacked twice now by powerful trolls that had tried to take his life, yet he had barely even bruised them too much, so, realistically speaking, he could never have stabbed a person. Maybe the whole knife thing had all been in the mother’s head. Something about her was way further off the mark than anything regarding Dave, which had Karkat better inclined to disbelieve her delusions. 

That was, until they both hopped into the shower, and his eyes fell onto the scar right under Dave’s ribs. Suddenly, it all clicked. 

“You did this.” He breathed out weakly, watching the scar with wide eyes. “You did this to yourself, didn’t you?” 

Glancing up at Dave for any sort of confirmation on that, he met with a perfectly nonchalant face, emotionless enough at its bareness to be comparable to the first and most remote thing about Dirk Strider. Without the shades on, Karkat had never been this unable to read a single thing out of Dave’s eyes. 

“Why did you do it?” He pushed, feeling his own lips tremble from the question as his body instinctively took a step back out of self-preservation. 

Dave’s gaze dropped down at the small space between them, turning when he moved to put the shampoo bottle down. Apparently, none of this was surprising enough to stop his shower. 

“I don’t know.” 

Dave’s voice was so stale that it could almost be felt on the tongue. 

“You lied about the school fights. I knew they weren’t real.” He spoke with less shock now and more of a newfound burning in his chest that echoed into his voice. “What else isn’t true?” 

Dave shrugged, shaking his head, keeping quiet otherwise. He was very obviously not inclined to keep this conversation topic going, or even comment much on it, with fair reasoning, so Karkat had to choose his words and questions wisely here, as not to push Dave too much, and accidentally miss his opportunity to know more about all of this. He was very close to the truth here, he could feel it, but had to ask the absolute right questions for it, which probably started with steering clear from anything directly involving Dave’s mother, because, while that was a mystery in itself, it was the kind that literally gave Dave nightmares bad enough to push him into his brother’s room for comfort, so Karkat should stick with something a little easier to talk about, like the brother that he revered so much and his early living conditions. 

“Is Dirk really your brother?” 

Dave gave him a look. 

“Yeah, of course he is; I didn’t lie about that.” 

“Then where was he your whole life?” 

“With Dana, our grandma. Dad didn’t know about him in the beginning, and mom didn’t want to tell, so he just lived with Dana until he couldn’t anymore, but he doesn’t have anything to do with this, Karkat. He’s not the problem.” 

“He wasn’t there when you needed him, though, was he?” 

If the tense situation at Dave’s parents’ house had been the root of everything, then Dirk’s absence must’ve weighed a ton. Dave must’ve had no one to really turn to back then, which might’ve ended up with him trying to turn to John, but failing, and resorting to finding comfort in harmful ways. Incidentally, Dirk’s current behavior toward Dave might be a callback to that, to how unhelpful he had been in the past, unable to have been there for Dave at times of extreme need, not to his own fault, but that it still made him guilty, and maybe even feeling partially responsible for everything that had happened to his little brother. The way that Dirk cradled and cared for Dave now might’ve been Dirk trying to redeem himself for the past.

“He was when he could’ve been, but we didn’t live together, and I barely ever saw him. It’s not his fault.” 

“I know.”

Dave had a deep scowl in between his brows now, clearly unhappy to be speaking of this at the moment, to have anyone doubting his brother’s integrity. It must’ve been vexing, if anything, to hear slander regarding someone who he looked up to so vehemently. He hadn’t paused his shower to talk, and the longer their conversation went on for, the angrier he seemed to become, with reason, too. Despite anything that Karkat had just learned and put together about Dave, though, he still saw his matesprit as completely harmless around him, and didn’t feel threatened while in this small glass box with the guy, how he probably should have, especially considering just how pissed Dave was at him right now. Deep within himself, he honestly didn’t believe that Dave could ever lay a finger on him, intentionally or not. 

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Dave informed him, keeping his gaze down instead of making eye contact. All in all, Dave was pretty bad at that; must’ve been another reason why he always wore aviators over his face. 

“Sorry.” Karkat mumbled. “I’ve just had this hammering into the back of my head for a while now, but I won’t bring it up again.” 

He had never even meant to do that in the first place, it had just slipped out before he could’ve stopped himself from saying a thing. The plan had always been to not speak of this to Dave, but, instead, work around him through his connections until Karkat could rightfully put the pieces together by himself. He really would not bother Dave with this again, or John, probably, given that he’d most likely never see that guy again, so Dirk was next in line, even if Karkat didn’t feel exactly hopeful with that one. Dirk was great at helping Karkat out with his own thoughts, feelings and situations, but he seemed to be very private, too, besides completely unyielding, so he might not be inclined to disclose his brother’s personal matters with Karkat, unless he absolutely wanted to, but Karkat couldn’t see a single reason why he would. He’d have to work on that later. 

As they showered, Karkat noticed some new cuts on the outside of Dave’s right arm, but decided against bringing that up in conversation, or even saying another word right now, about anything, as not to make the situation worse. Dave looked too upset already to make him want to touch yet another unpleasant topic similar to the first that had soured Dave’s good mood this morning, so Karkat resorted to analyzing the body before him in silence. The stitches looked alright, the Steri-Strips were all still in place, the bruises on Dave’s neck had practically disappeared, as well as the ones on his face, the busted lip and the cut were gone, too, and Karkat felt bad for him. Mostly, he felt bad for having confronted the knife thing so tactlessly. He sincerely had not been thinking when that had blurted itself out, but what had been done couldn’t be undone. The least he could do now, out of basic decency and respect, was to not point out any of the other self-inflicted marks on Dave’s body, or bring to light that he knew what Dave had been doing when he called his brother yesterday. Dave  _ was _ ambidextrous, after all. 

Understandably, Dave spent the rest of his morning routine in silence, only coming back around during the bus ride to the campus, lightly commenting on the weather at first, how much colder it had been getting recently, and how he didn’t really appreciate it. Small talk was a good start, Karkat decided, and joined his matesprit for it, speaking of the falling leaves and the chilly wind. He hadn’t said anything this entire time, giving Dave the quiet and the space that he needed to get to talking again, which seemed to have worked perfectly, and put a satisfied smile on his face. Dave was something of a mystery to him still, in some aspects or others, but his heightened sensitivity toward certain things was crystal clear in Karkat’s understanding, so he simply wouldn’t broach that anymore. He’d speak of the things that made Dave happy, not the source of his nightmares. 

Class was mostly spent daydreaming about how to approach Dirk in regards to his younger brother, when not making jokes with Dave, hiding their hands under the desk, and openly staring at his mouth. Their back-and-forth flirting must’ve been obvious to the audience composed of Karkat’s friends, but he didn’t mind that, as long as the professor didn’t notice. Dave put a smile on his face and he’d be grateful for meeting this boy until the end of his days. They did the assignment together, had a lunch date at the nearby Chick-fil-A, and made plans to meet up for dinner somewhere nice. Karkat was supposed to wear his best outfit for that, which made him both excited and hesitant to know what kind of place Dave had in mind for tonight. They parted with a kiss, and he thought about that for the rest of the walk back to campus. 

As he entered the building, still speckled with some trolls here and there in the hallways, focused on getting to their respective classes on time, Karkat saw Dammek standing under the door frame to their classroom, leisurely watching the trolls about him come and go. He couldn’t wear the aviators indoors, so Karkat knew that he hadn’t been spotted by this guy yet, and had another second to think this through. For no particular reason, seeing Dammek with his arms crossed over his chest while leaning on the door frame, doing nothing but loitering until the clock told him to get inside, felt threatening. He knew that Dammek wouldn’t deck him in the face while he walked in, but having to push past Dammek for this made him incredibly uncomfortable. Why was Dammek there, anyway? He should be deep into the classroom right now, sitting next to his beloved, and not acting like a bouncer at the gates of Heaven. Karkat slowly and carefully walked further down the hallway, with eyes fixed on Dammek’s face to spot the exact moment that he got noticed. 

A few feet down the hall, copper met red and Karkat stopped in place. Dammek wasn’t looking at him weird, or even showing much of anything on his face, which wouldn’t be cause for concern if Dammek hadn’t moved away from the arch and, instead of walking back inside, closed some distance between the two of them, out in the hallway. Karkat did nothing but watch that with wide and fearful eyes, absently trained on the size of Dammek’s approaching biceps. A fleeting memory of Dave’s busted up face and cut up shoulder flashed through his mind, but he decided not to freak out about that at the moment; it wasn’t as if he was actively trying to get Dammek mad, anyway. Maybe Dammek didn’t even want anything with him, and was only walking over to him and stopping in front of him for no reason. Maybe this was nothing, followed up by nothing, and maybe… 

“Hey.” 

Nevermind. A simple, friendly greeting from this guy had Karkat’s heart racing pronto. 

“Hey, man.” 

He couldn’t remember the last time that he had spoken with Dammek all alone, if that had ever happened in the first place. They were always surrounded by friends, and, when not, then Xefros was literally always at Dammek’s side, which made this a very ominous encounter. Had Dammek been waiting at the door for  _ him?  _ Karkat didn’t trust this. Something must’ve been up, and he had a feeling that he was to blame for it. 

“Are you good, bro? You and Gamzee good?” 

Gamzee? 

“Yeah, we’re good. We’re…” Yesterday’s brief encounter came to him. “Over. For real this time, wholly and completely. We have nothing between us anymore.” Why?, he wanted to ask. Did Dammek have any intention to get involved with Gamzee? They had such different personalities that Karkat couldn’t possibly imagine the two of them even remotely getting along, much less getting themselves stuck in something of a quadrant together. Did Xefros know about this? It was beyond off putting to be speaking with Dammek away from his moirail. 

“Cool. I assume you and Dave are good, too.” 

His heart skipped a beat. This was so bizarre. 

“Yeah, we’re fine.” 

Dammek nodded, falling silent for a second, as if pensive, thinking this over. Karkat didn’t know what was going through this guy’s mind, but he was afraid of the outcome. 

“Good to know.” 

Was it really? Dammek sounded sincere enough, but something in Karkat’s gut told him not to trust that. 

“Look, I know we’re not super close, you and me, but you’re still my friend, and I want good stuff to happen to you, alright? I probably fucked up before, and did some shit that I wasn’t supposed to, and I’m sorry about that, but I was never trying to hurt you or anything. I really believed that that was the right thing to do, and I know now that it wasn’t. You know what I’m talking about. Point is, I’m sorry, and I hope we’re good.” 

This was… Different. Obviously, they had never had this kind of talk before, just the two of them, and Karkat had never really seen Dammek’s more, uh, sensitive side, if that was the right way to describe this, but he couldn’t say that distrusting the veracity of Dammek’s feelings was very fair to do. It was clear that Dammek wasn’t a very soft or gentle person, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t caring or kind, either. Karkat knew that everything that Dammek had done in regards to Dave had been his twisted way of caring and protecting, which hadn’t been optimal, and had ultimately worked against its purpose, but it had come from a good place. Sure, Dammek teased him a lot, but so did Sollux, and that was just their way of being affectionate toward their friends.

“We’re alright, dude. Don’t worry about it. I mean, you’re an asshole and I still absolutely despise you, but there are no hard feelings about last Friday. It’s all good.” 

Dammek smirked. 

“If you’re trying to flirt with me, it’s not working. Subtlety is key.” 

Karkat rolled his eyes and shoved Dammek on the shoulder, making to walk past him, headed toward the classroom. Lecture was just about to begin, anyway. 

“Fuck off.” 

Dammek scoffed as they walked back to class.

This, whatever it had been, had ended up a lot more positively than Karkat thought it would. He didn’t blame himself for his apprehension at first, because speaking alone with Dammek seemed like something he’d read in a dystopian novel rather than experience in reality, but the guy wasn’t all bad, and probably wouldn’t be on Karkat’s case anymore, about his relationship with Dave or otherwise. Dammek already hadn’t been doing that, which, in all honesty, was really nice, and Karkat’s absent time from the building wasn’t met with a group of extremely worried trolls anymore, so things finally seemed to be looking up now. His friends were slowly growing used to his concealed matespritship and he very much appreciated that. 

In class, he didn’t really speak with anyone, only silently wondered if Xefros knew of what had just passed in the hallway. He could’ve asked Xefros about it, but since Dammek seemed to be taking a step back from meddling in his relationship with Dave, he found himself refraining from getting involved in Xefros’ relationship as well. It was only fair. Those two were a horribly dysfunctional mess, but he’d keep that to himself. Plus, he was sure that they both knew it already. At this point, who didn’t? Pulling out his phone, he fiddled with it for the duration of the class, as not to pay attention to it, or want to push other people’s boundaries. While drowning in his own thoughts, he wondered how to best approach Dirk to put a rest to his lethal curiosity in regards to Dave. The idea of speaking with Dirk in person about any of that crossed his mind, but, remembering just how sinister Dirk could get, he quickly decided against it. Maybe a call would be better, since it was more personal than texting, but not  _ as _ personal as a face-to-face conversation. Yeah. 

Arriving at the building, Karkat ditched dinner and went straight to his room to get changed to leave. On the meanwhile, he tapped on Dirk’s contact icon and called him. 

As usual, Dirk picked up at the first ring. 

“Hey, Karkat. If you’re calling to know whether or not I’ll be here when you two get back from dinner tonight, I won’t, so go wild. I’ll only be back after twelve.” 

His face immediately colored. 

“No, what? That’s not why I’m calling at all. We’ve literally never even talked about anything like this, man, what the fuck.” 

“I know; it’s an embarrassing question to make, which is why I’m sparing you the trouble by answering it unprompted.” 

He frowned to himself, absently opening his wardrobe to maybe find something worthy of wearing tonight, even though he knew that nothing he had would be good enough. 

“Dirk, I’m calling because, first of all, I don’t know which meaning of the word ‘nice’ Dave referred to earlier, if it’s just an alright, plain shirt and jeans, or if I’m supposed to wear a button-up and dress pants. I don’t know where we’re going and I’m scared of being underdressed for it.” 

“You don’t have a suit and tie, so Dave wouldn’t invite you anywhere with a dress code that requires overdressing for entrance.” 

“I’m not surprised to learn you know that, but please keep in mind that you’re smart, and not everyone thinks three steps ahead before inviting anyone to dinner. The only thing I know is that hoodies are probably out of the question.” 

“Undoubtedly. Wear long sleeves and the closest pair of jeans to a Calvin Klein ready-to-wear fall collection that you have, no print. You can ask Dave for a blazer, if you really need one, but I don’t think it’s cold enough for that.” 

“You know, I’ve only ever seen you in tight-fitting tank tops, so maybe our body temperatures work differently. I’ll ask for that blazer.” 

“Sure.”

“Um, I also…” He paused to tug at the collar of his shirt, suddenly warm in this stuffy room, working a rapidly beating heart. “I wanted to ask about your mother. Can I do that?” 

“Yeah, go ahead.” 

He could feel his pulse right on his ears. 

“Is she alright? I mean, I don’t know a single thing about the dynamics of a human family, but Dave looked very nervous around her, and I’m not sure why.” 

He had his suspicions, though.

“Startling question. The short answer is no, she’s not alright, while the long answer involves a lengthy exposition about my father that I don’t think you want to know, so I’ll keep it brief. Au fond, she’s still feeling the aftereffects of widowhood, and doesn’t know how to handle that without impacting those closest to her, id est her family. This inner turmoil that she’s been going through for twenty-two years very often leaks into her behavior, despite how uselessly she tries to keep her composure; she’s needy, possessive and hurtful without meaning to be, and those are not exactly great traits to have around a growing child. I won’t get into detail here, but don’t worry about her. I’m taking care of the situation and she’s going to be fine.” 

Twenty-two fucking years? So Dirk’s father had died way before Dave had even been born, which, in a timeline sense, it worked, but Karkat still had to make an effort to put all of the pieces together. In his mind, he pictured the mother losing Dirk’s father while Dirk was still young, then rebounding with somebody else a few years later, hiding the fact that she already had a kid by leaving her son at her mother’s house, accidentally having Dave on the meanwhile, and finding herself in a bit of a situation with that. She had done this whole thing wrong from the start, and Dave’s birth must’ve only made it worse. Karkat didn’t know the specifics, but, at one point, Diego had managed to find out the truth, because he knew about Dirk by now, and they were alright with each other. What a fucking mess. 

“I asked Dave about the scar today.” 

“What did he tell you?” 

“He lied at first, but your mother accidentally helped me figure out what happened.” A pause. “Do you think she was involved?” 

“I know that she was.”

His heart raced. 

“What did she do?” 

“Nothing out of the ordinary for her. As far as I know, it was a culmination of stress buildup that was bound to finally reach a breaking point. It should not have been a surprise.” 

“What does that mean? What actually happened?” 

“Do you remember how you felt when you visited her?” 

“Yeah.” 

She really pissed him off. 

“Try to picture yourself at the absolute limit of that feeling. Do you think you could just breathe out and reset under constant stimuli?” 

He hesitated. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“Then there you have it.” 

He wondered what kind of emotion Dave’s mother had evoked within him to have caused such an extreme reaction. 

“You didn’t see it happen, did you?” 

“No, I heard it from her.” 

He nodded to himself, pulling out a clean, long-sleeved black shirt from the depths of a drawer. The dirty pile at the bottom of the wardrobe was becoming chaotic at this point, spilling out onto the floor and making him realize that he hadn’t done the laundry in a long time. He hoped to have at least a single good pair of pants for right now, because he definitely would not fix this problem tonight. He’d let it cover the carpet as a reminder for the next time that he came here. 

“Can I ask where you’re going tonight? Because if you don’t actually have anywhere to be, I want you to know that you don’t have to be out of the apartment everytime I’m around. That actually makes me feel like a nuisance for you.” 

“Really? That was not my intention, but, no; I’m not spending the night out  _ because _ you’re there, I’m going out because Dave won’t be alone if I leave. Take that as the seizing of an opportunity. I guess I should’ve made that clearer.” 

His mouth opened to ask what would be the problem of leaving Dave, a grown ass man, alone for a few hours, but then he remembered the knife incident, and killed the question before it made it out. Those two things were probably not related to one another, but, in case that they happened to be, in any remote possibility, he decided against making Dirk say it out loud. That would’ve been of bad taste. Instead, he hummed his understand while scanning the hangers for a pair of his least-worn pants. 

“Alright, well. I gotta get dressed now. I’ll see you later, and, uh. Thanks. Just, thank you.” 

“Sure, Karkat. Have fun.” 


	15. Closure on Dave Strider

The place that Dave had picked out for the two of them looked like a two-story university dorm building on the outside, short and wide, with a double-door entrance up a few steps and red brick walls, which passed a false sense of security onto Karkat, because maybe they weren’t going somewhere so upscale and chic, like he had imagined, and he’d be fine in a slightly oversized blazer with all black underneath. The black turtleneck that he wore made him look like a theater kid, but was one of his only options without any prints or designs on, because most of his clothing articles had the Cancer sign on them, somewhere; usually on the front for shirts, and on the back for hoodies and jackets. The theater kid look made him self-conscious, but, hey, if there happened to be a conglomeration of hipsters in here, then he wouldn’t stand out. 

Walking in, however, he quickly realized his mistake. This place looked as if the dining rooms of dozens of different royal palaces from the movies had been recreated in separate rooms and placed all next to one other, under the same roof, for the customer to choose the period in history that had their favorite monarchy’s style most interesting to dine at. The entrance hallway had dark stone floors and red brick walls with windows to look into the royal dining rooms that made Karkat’s heart race and his feet stop walking. Standing in place, off to the side, he leaned in closer to one of those big, white-framed windows, and peered in through the glass to watch the well-dressed Texan Establishment have their imported wine and soup du jour. The sight of red-faced, fat humans in black suits and flashy pearls made him want to barf.  _ These _ were the people that constantly fought to keep his rights below humane. 

“Where do you wanna sit?” Dave asked him nicely, pulling him back from the forming rage of his chest. 

He stepped back from the window to look Dave in the shades and allow himself to calm down a little. This wasn’t the place to suddenly embrace the revolution’s principles at, nor to hate every human around him. Hadn’t he finally decided on a side, and chosen the humans? This was the time to fully embrace that choice and realize that he’d never be treated as an equal by the majority of society, but that he wouldn’t get penalized for breaking some Laws, either. He had chosen to live in the limbo where his human connections got him out of trouble, and respected him among themselves, but were ultimately unable to grant him actual rights in the face of society. He got to live part of the human experience without the lifelong benefits, which was the equivalent of the lap of luxury to a troll, so he really should not be complaining right now. 

“Can we eat outside?” He asked his matesprit, being overheard by one of the staff members that stood behind the cash register in the process. 

“Yes, the outdoor sitting is just down the hallway.” The woman informed them around a friendly smile that had the two of them turning to look at her and thanking her for the information. “A waiter will be right there with you.” 

Halfway down the hallway was a crossroads with a gorgeous and very expensive-looking stairway in one side, a hallway branch across from it, and a posh bar straight ahead. They continued on forward, glancing at the people who sat and chatted at the bar to their right, while some watched the television on the wall, and some made drunken but somehow sophisticated moves on each other through slurred but complaisant speech. The boys watched them with the sort of curiosity comparable to a child at an aquarium. Karkat had never seen the one-percenters from this up close before, and it felt beyond weird to be here, even though he wasn’t the only troll around. There were more than just a few tall and well-dressed apatitebloods here, too; all women with long, flowy hair that cascaded in curls down their shoulders, in glittery and expensive low cut dresses that hugged their curves and matched with the jewelry hanging from their ears and locked around their necks, and whose faces covered in flawless makeup were more beautiful than that of any human being on the planet. They all drank and chatted with the rest of the humans as if one of them, perfectly blended into their groups, imitating their mannerisms; holding tall glasses and laughing the way they did. Only these women wasted a glance or two on Karkat, watching him cross the room in a borrowed blazer and government-gifted clothes. He didn’t belong here; trophy trolls did. 

Outside had a relatively tall fountain and some tables scattered about, all fenced off by a tall hedge. The two of them took seats closer to the fountain, away from most of the smokers, and didn’t have to wait a second before a waiter brought them the menu. Karkat took one glance at the prices and put the menu down. 

“Dave, why are we here?” 

Dave glanced up at him from above the top portion of the menu. 

“What do you mean? We’re here to eat.” 

“No, we’re not; you’re not here to have an overpriced lobster tail when you could have a BK hamburger for six dollars, so what did you bring me here to this fucking palace that looks like a commercialized piece of human history for? This is the sort of place people come to propose and celebrate ten-year anniversaries, Dave. I bet even Hollywood’s recorded a movie here before. Why aren’t we at a BK right now?”

“Damn, I just wanted to take you somewhere nice, but if you wanna eat at BK, bro, I’m super down, too. You know how it goes.” 

“Are you trying to make up for yesterday?” 

Dave fell silent. 

“Look, man, I’m telling you it’s fine. You have no debt with me and you don’t owe me anything, either, especially not a fancy ass dinner with the Houston elite.” 

“Karkat, I just want to have a good time tonight. It’s not that deep.” 

“We could be having a good time at a Dairy Queen.” 

“Fine, we can go if you want to leave so bad.” 

Dave closed the menu and dropped it onto the table before getting up from his seat, clearly upset, so Karkat reached across the table to take his hand and keep him from leaving. 

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dave, I’ll stop being an asshole. Please sit down.” 

Dave pursed his lips at that but obeyed anyway. 

“I’ll shut up and let you pay for a twenty-dollar soup, alright? Here, I’ll have the, uh. Oh, they have a troll section. That’s…” The prices were absurd. “That’s cool.” 

Dave sighed. 

“Look, I know you’re super anti-Establishment and hate people who dress well, but I didn’t bring you here to feel bad. I mean, this place isn’t even that expensive; it’s in no way a One Fifth or Pappas Bros, it’s just a big restaurant that looks pretty. This isn’t the Houston elite.” Dave spoke the last part while motioning about them. “This is just people with money who want to chill somewhere nice. We’re here tonight ‘cause I think you deserve to be here.” 

Karkat felt his cheeks color from how he had acted a minute ago, uncouth and completely uncalled for. Dave’s intentions were pure, yet here he was, being an absolute idiot. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Can I start the evening over?” 

Dave only shrugged at that, so Karkat reached across the table for his hand, to coax him a little bit. 

“Thank you for making tonight special, Dave. I’ll be good.” 

His words got a small smile to tug onto the corners of his matesprit’s lips, which he considered a huge success. 

With a little effort, their night ended up being a wonderful time for the both of them. The food was truly delicious, unlike any other that Karkat had ever had, only, maybe, to a certain point comparable to that one restaurant that they went to last weekend, except dozens of times better, worthy of being on a television cooking show. Karkat finally understood the human fixation for food, if everything that they had always tasted this good. It was a shame that he couldn’t live that kind of life, but he quickly decided against thinking about that, and, instead, focused on what the chef here called “grub pearls with cast iron blackened farmer’s slimy vegetables, charred sopor peppers, slow roasted tuber pecans and meunière oil with a side of stewed okra and tomatoes.” He had no idea what half of those words were supposed to mean when put together like that, but his thirty-five dollar dish ended up absolutely delicious, so it didn’t really matter if he knew English or not, or what a grub pearl was. 

He made light conversation with Dave during dinner, trying to sound sophisticated with his words and thoughts for once, but really just ending up talking about dumb, childish shit with the love of his life and laughing grossly until the both of them were ready to leave. Dave took his hand to walk him out, giving him the chance to gaze at the trophy trolls that populated the bar once again, on the way out. He didn’t know why, but these women were mesmerizing; not only for their outstanding looks and curious personality, but because he used to know a few of them in school, and what happened to them had always given him a strange feeling in the chest that creeped under his skin through the tips of his fingers. The apatitebloods were the only caste in the hemospectrum that had the boys and girls separated from each other after high school; the boys went to college to train with the other highbloods while the girls were sent to a special school where they learned to be pleasing to the eye and indistinguishable from the rest of the high society. They had even less of a choice to control their future than the other trolls did. Karkat had always wondered what exactly happened to them after college, if they didn’t manage to get a suitor or two. If thinking about that made him anxious already, he wondered how they felt. 

Walking through the bar, he came across a familiar face laughing glamorously in the middle of the crowd that surrounded her, all with dreamlike eyes on her, as if in love with her charm and infatuated with her presence. Karkat paused the walking a little to look at her, too, craning his neck to see her better, to confirm to himself that she was who he thought that she was. In his peripheral, Dave stared a him. 

“What is it?” Dave asked, stepping closer so Karkat could hear him clearer over the loud chattering in the bar. 

“I think I know her, that girl over there, in the blue dress. She went to school with me.” 

“Do you want to say hi?” 

His heart skipped. He and Vriska weren’t exactly very close friends, or friends at all, for that matter. In high school, she had really pissed him off whenever she could have, and he had insulted her in every possible way in return, but they had never been enemies, or even actually disliked each other. Their little pretend rivalry had been fun, differently from what he had with Dammek now. He liked Vriska, and had kind of missed her in these last few months, even though he knew that she probably hadn’t even spared him a single thought in this meanwhile. Going over to say hello might be counterproductive and entirely destructive if she didn’t remember him back. 

“Do you just want to leave?” Dave tried again. 

“No, I think I’ll talk to her.” 

“Alright, I’m gonna pay and wait for you outside.” 

He nodded his agreement and kissed Dave a brief parting before diving into the bar and gently pushing his way through the well-dressed crowd. It was a little scary to have to slip through all of these people to get to his friend, because everytime he brushed against someone’s expensive dress or hundred-dollar button-up, he half-expected to have ruined it, and to feel a firm grip on his shoulder looking for trouble. His heart raced and his brow sweated as he tried not to touch anyone too much, with eyes glued onto the side of Vriska’s face, to make sure that she was who he thought that she was. The closer he got to her, the surer he became of that, though, and continued to push through his growing anxiety to get to her. Once he did, slipping unnoticed into the circle of tall people around her wasn’t very difficult, given his height. 

Vriska looked wildly different from the tomboy that she used to be in school; her enormous hair was kept out of her face with what he didn’t know was called a waterfall braid, allowing for the long curls at her shoulders to flow down around her back and over her upper arms, looking clearly cared for rather than a big, black mess, like before; the shiny, blue dress that she wore was definitely not something that he thought he’d ever see on her, because the dresses that she used to favor over the others had all been very plain and not very feminine, while this one accentuated her hips and showed off her shoulders, with the flimsy straps resting loosely around her upper arms; and at last, he couldn’t see her feet, but, from what he remembered, she hadn’t been that much taller than him and his friends, about Eridan’s height, so this probably meant that she was wearing heels right now, to seem this incredibly tall among the humans. Despite everything, though, she still looked loosely the same. He was glad to see that her trademark blue lipstick and mascara had remained. 

In reality, he didn’t actually have a plan to approach her, and was only here to really make sure that yes, this was his childhood friend Vriska, time to go back home and never see her again. He  _ wanted _ to speak with her, sure, but getting her attention would be nearly impossible, seeing as she was the center of it all, so he’d probably be better off leaving. He was just about to do that, when Vriska’s eyes absently fell on him, putting a very brief pause in her speech that was almost imperceptible to the audience. She blinked once, still staring at him, before wrapping up whatever point she had been making and excusing herself from the circle. She crossed it, in Karkat’s direction, took his arm and pulled him to leave alongside her. It was heartwarming to know that she still remembered him. 

Once again standing outside, but this time closer to the door, Karkat could take another look at his friend. They had done an incredible job and a half at her school. 

“Well, well, well; look who’s here, and checking me out, too. I never thought I’d get to see you again, Karkat. Do you work here? Aren’t you supposed to be sweeping the floors right now?” 

He squinted at that, but, then again, he wasn’t sure what he had expected from her, either. Despite the preppy clothes and sparkling makeup, this was still Vriska Serket, after all. 

“Fuck you, I’m here on a date. Aren’t you the same case, idiot?” 

Vriska’s signature smirk had been greatly missed. 

“I’m almost jealous. Where’s your date, or is this them?” She spoke the last part while motioning to the empty space next to Karkat. “Pleased to meet you, Karkatherine! You look lovely tonight, honey. Have you tried the blueberry cocktails that they have here? They’re sinful.” 

Karkat shoved her on the shoulder, making her laugh. 

“Shut up, he’s outside. Where’s your owner?” 

He had never used that word seriously before, but Vriska had a tendency to bring out the worst in him, even if saying that made him feel sick. Vriska herself, however, didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. 

“She’s at a conference in one of these rooms. Big business type, all pencil skirts and tailored suits. I snatched her up just last week.” 

“You mean  _ she _ chose you last week.” 

“No,  _ I _ chose her last week. She might have a great brain for finance and business, but when it comes to romance, she’s very feeble-minded. It’s like she has no mental barriers, and her brain is just a big, green park filled with rose bushes. It’s kind of adorable, really.” 

Karkat scowled. 

“I didn’t know your stupid mind control powers affected humans, too.” 

“Oh, you don’t know the first thing about it. She’s the fourth one just this month.” 

“How does that work?” 

“It’s pretty simple. Imagine a big, fancy cocktail party, or a charity bidding, or any humanitarian event that all of the rich and influential types go to. Now, picture me walking in with my girl. We greet everyone, socialize, network, and eventually meet the head of the event, the most powerful woman under that roof.  _ She _ is my next target.” 

Karkat squinted. 

“Is that fun?” 

Vriska shrugged, dropping the smirk. 

“It’s what I do to pass the time. What do  _ you _ do?” 

“I don’t know. I have classes, so it’s not like I have nothing to do all day. What about your friends?” 

“My friends?” 

“Yeah, you know. Terezi and the other apatite girls.” 

“What about them?” 

“Are they enjoying this as much as you are?” 

A slight crease formed in between Vriska’s perfect brows. 

“Of course not, Karkat. How dense are you? This is a fucking shit-show.  _ No one _ wants to be here.”

Suddenly, his face colored. Yeah, that made sense, and he was a fucking dumbass. He was embarrassed to have even broached this topic in the first place. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, you know, uh.” 

Vriska rolled her eyes. 

“Whatever. You’re not an idiot, you know what happens, so let’s not talk about it.” Vriska spoke while turning to glance back at the open door leading into the building. “I’m gonna go.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Her piercing blues cut through him one last time before she made to leave. 

“Nice seeing you, Karkat.” 

With that, she walked out, leaving an empty feeling in the center of Karkat’s chest. They’d probably never see each other again. 

Outside, Dave stood idly by the small set of steps leading up to the entrance doors, scrolling down his phone screen while waiting for Karkat. Having spoken with Vriska might not have been his greatest idea, but he didn’t fully regret it, even though he wished to not have screwed that up so badly. It was still nice to have seen her, at least, to have made sure that she was alright out there, doing what she could given the circumstances. It was all very upsetting, but Karkat couldn’t really do a thing to change that. He walked out with something heavy weighing his shoulders down and took Dave’s free hand, tugging on it to have him moving. At that, Dave promptly put his phone away. 

“Hey, how’d it go?” 

He shrugged, keeping his eyes out on the street, at the passing cars and the few people that came and went on the sidewalk. He didn’t stop a moment to chat, too antsy to leave soon, to do anything but stand in place or simply be in this restaurant for too much longer. In reality, he hoped to never come back. 

“Could’ve been worse. Are we walking home?” 

He said that word as if he had a place in that apartment. 

“No, we should get a ride. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, I just want to be home now.” 

Dave must’ve given him a look from behind the shades for the second it took him to reply to that. 

“Okay. I can call Bro to pick us up if you need to be home so quickly.” 

He almost said yes to that, happy at the idea of having Dirk drive them both home in the warmth of that shitty Frankenstein Honda that he had put together over the months, but then he remembered their conversation from earlier, and how Dirk was probably busy right now, enjoying his night somewhere nice, which, after everything, he had completely deserved. Karkat didn’t actually know where Dirk had chosen to spend his night out, but he definitely didn’t want to ruin it, and shook his head at Dave’s proposition. He wasn’t even in that much of a hurry to get to the apartment, really; he just wanted to leave  _ here, _ this exact place, these premises, and taking the bus wouldn’t be a problem. He held Dave’s hand to the closest stop, absently thinking to himself just how nice it was to not have to worry about curfew anymore, or many of the Law Enforcement clauses that used to include him. He had dodged a bullet by dating Dave. 

That night, his unkind imagination got the jump on him. At first, he dreamed of Vriska and the other apatitebloods that used to go to school with him, locked in a cell underground, chained by the ankles and wrists. Some girls cried, some screamed, and some felt nothing at all. Then, he was back at the campus, standing in front of Dammek while Xefros, concealed in a classroom way behind his moirail’s back, watched from a slit between the door and the frame. Dammek shamelessly flirted with him, not as a joke this time around, and, for some indescribable reason, he watched himself flirt right back, exchanging blackrom eyes with the guy, and liking it, too. The imagery put a strange feeling at the pit of his stomach that had him both wanting to vomit, but also wanting to touch the body before him. Xefros, in the distance, crumbled down into pieces. Then, he was at Dave’s old house, floating up in the air, watching the kitchen from above, as if hanging from the ceiling fan. Dave’s mother was an abhorrent beast rather than a person, with dripping plastic for skin, melting right off of her in chunks to pool at her feet, translucent enough to see the veins and organs through. It made Karkat sick. She spoke with her son, or tried to, but her voice was a piercing shriek so loud and constant that it drove Dave insane, making him scream back and swipe the knife from the counter. Karkat covered his eyes, but his hands were transparent, and forced him to watch the scene until the end. 

He woke up with a pounding heart and not enough air in his lungs. He breathed in once, and again, deeper each time, focusing on the darkness of the room to keep himself distracted from his own thoughts, blankly watching the stripes of light plastered onto the ceiling that filtered in through the half-drawn blinds over the window. Outside, the night was cool, and the cars thirteen stories down drove past with revving engines and noisy wheels swiftly rolling on asphalt. Karkat wondered if any of these people slept. Turning to his side, he watched Dave’s peaceful frame rest in deep slumber, protected from the cold underneath the softness of the blanket, as well as his matesprit’s presence. He brought a hand up to touch the side of Dave’s face, softly, carefully, trying not to wake him up. Seeing Dave sleep so serenely calmed him down and brought some air into his lungs. His fingertips brushed from Dave’s cheek to behind his ear, feeling the velvety skin there, and tucking some hair out of his face. Karkat loved this boy so much that it almost scared him. 

Just across the wall, on the other side of it, water ran from the faucet and into the sink. Normally, he wouldn’t be able to hear this, but since it was so quiet, not only in the apartment, but all around, the sound of a heavy stream hitting the bottom of a hollow sink was perfectly indistinguishable. He turned to glance at Dave’s bedroom door, to see the sliver of light coloring the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor yellow, indicating that Dirk was home. The sound changed into a stream of tap water filling up a cup before getting cut off as Karkat got up from the bed to check on that, to welcome Dirk back into his house. Maybe having a talk with this guy would help taking his mind off of the vivid imagery of his dream, too. 

In the kitchen, Dirk stood shirtless by the sink, draining his glass of water as if it were air. From behind the shades, he must’ve seen Karkat, and watched him cross the living room toward the kitchen counter to take a seat at, even though there were no physical signs of acknowledgement to that. Dirk brought his glass down on the meanwhile and refilled it as Karkat sat down across from him. 

“Hey.” 

“You’re up early.” Dirk commented easily, sounding a little rough, almost like the words were heavy on his tongue. Once the glass was full again, he drank from it. 

At the observation, Karkat glanced at the wall clock behind Dirk’s head for the time. Three in the morning.

“I couldn’t sleep. Did you just get home?” 

Dirk brought the glass back down and put it in the sink. 

“Yeah, about a minute ago.” 

“You smell like sixteen different but equally expensive cologne brands drenched in at least three layers of sweat, so I’m guessing you had fun.” 

“That’s one way to tell someone to take a shower.” 

Dirk’s slur was minimal, but noticeable to a trained ear, and with it came a thick Southern accent that Karkat had never heard in his voice before. This  _ was _ Texas, sure, but not everyone had much of an accent in Houston, especially not the Strider family, which led Karkat to believe that they had either come from somewhere else, or simply checked themselves to speak without one. Hearing Dirk let the accent slip while reeking of alcohol pushed Karkat to believe the latter. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Dirk asked. It almost sounded as if the question had been made starting from the middle of it, with the way that he said it. 

“I guess you could say that.” A brief flash of Dave’s hand holding the knife, all white knuckles and trembling fingers, passed before his eyes. “Yeah, it was definitely a nightmare. For sure.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

That slurred string of sounds forming a sentence couldn’t have been three words long. Dirk must’ve been very close to speaking some sort of dialect here. 

“I don’t know. It was the whole knife thing, like I dreamed of it without actually knowing how it really happened. I guess my brain was trying to fill in the gap, even though that’s not important.” 

Dirk nodded, aloof but present. 

“Right. Yeah, that’s not the point. Doesn’t tell us anything we don’t already know.” 

“Yeah, and it’s not like we can change it, either. I just, I remember yesterday, your mother saying something about Dave, and John backing this up, like, something about his behavior getting out of hand, or going crazy. I think that’s what happened when he, you know. I think that was it.” 

“Are you suggesting a psychotic outburst?” 

That sounded funny in Dirk’s current speech pattern, but Karkat felt no joy inside to appreciate it. The implications were too serious to laugh at.

“Maybe? I don’t know. I don’t know what she meant when she said that, she just asked Dave if you know how to suture a wound when he gets out of control, I guess. She never actually finished the question, I’m just filling it up with what I think would’ve been the end.” 

“Fuck, really? Really? God fucking dammit, Denise.” Dirk shook his head, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Shit.” 

Karkat raised a brow. That wasn’t the kind of reaction that he was expecting out of Dirk with this topic, and he couldn’t tell what it alluded to. There must’ve been something more to what he had just said that he wasn’t seeing here. 

“What?” 

Dirk dropped the hand from his face. 

“I have surgical precision, Karkat, and she knows this because she taught me it. If she made that question at lunch the other day, it was because she wanted you to know.” 

“Oh.” 

Oh, shit. 

“Dave’s a handful ‘cause mom’s a handful. What’s new? What she  _ doesn’t _ know is that he’s been doing fine here. Nothing to worry about, which means, hey, maybe she’s the problem. Ever thought about that? I have, constantly, and he’s not going back there until she gets help. She needs a fucking therapist. You know how fucking hard it is to drag her to one? I’ve been trying for years, man. Years. Am I info-dumping right now or are you having a stroke? I can’t tell. Just kidding, I can tell, and I’m info-dumping. That was a joke because of this bizarre face you’re making. Or is there a smudge on the lens? No, you’re making a face. Another face now. You can laugh, it’s fine.” 

“Shit, dude, how drunk are you?” 

“I had exactly three tequila shots, four americanos, two Mai Tais and a single beer ‘cause you won’t catch me sober drinking that shit to save my life. I don’t care if it’s from Germany or the sewer, they all taste the same, and only exist to cater to the extremely fragile hypermasculinity of straight men who are actually insanely insecure about pretty much the entire concept of their existence, so miss me with your Buds and your Heinekens. I’m not about that.” 

Karkat’s brows raised. 

“Okay. I guess we’re done talking about your mom now.” 

“What else do you want to know? You’ve been obsessed with her, understandably so, but that’s not good for you and you should move on. I can help you with that.” 

“So… You’ll tell me anything I want to know?” 

Dirk shook his head.

“Anything.” 

Karkat’s feet bounced. This was his one chance to have a glance at the Holy Grail and he simply couldn’t afford to screw it up now. He had to make the right question here, that would bring him closure and cease his yearning to dig deeper into this flaming heap of family tragedies, whether that was ethical or not, which didn’t really feel like it was. His goal was to understand more about Dave, not really the mother, but one seemed intrinsically connected to the other, as evidenced by Dave’s upbringing under her constant watch, so maybe he could make a rather generic question that would admit a variety of options for an answer, and let Dirk funnel it down for him, picking the right path to follow. He breathed in. 

“What did she do to Dave, exactly?” 

Dirk watched him in silence for a second, without answering immediately, making Karkat nervous and pushing him to elaborate on that, regardless if that was a horrible idea or not. 

“I get it that she treats him, and everybody else, strangely due to consequence, and I get that growing up under that weird treatment must’ve fucked Dave up, but I feel like there’s more to this than what you’re telling me, because no one would do what he did unless under extreme pressure, so  _ something _ more must’ve happened, and I want to know what that was.” 

Dirk slowly nodded, very pensive, brooding and somber, almost seeming to have sobered up at this point. Karkat could feel his own heart pounding up his throat in anticipation. 

“There was a sunset that they watched together when Dave was five. I remember knowing about it from him, little bits and pieces in passing and innocent comments about it while he spent a week with me and Dana. I was thirteen, and Dana obviously didn’t tell me anything, so I just put it all together myself.”

Karkat’s ears perked.

“Diego had left again, and my mother took every time as the last time, flying off the handle with her hysterical crying and mourning, as if he were a double of my father. That particular time, her grief pushed her out of the house, away from all Diego reminders, and into the car for a drive. She did that very often to get her mind off of upsetting thoughts, usually inebriated and with Dave on the passenger seat, because she always took him everywhere; she always kept a close eye on him, which isn’t necessarily bad, only when her sanity fails. They drove around town for a long time, apparently, coming to a stop at a lake West out of town, where she parked dangerously close to the water, and abruptly, too. Dave remembered that very clearly, because the seat belt hurt his neck, and mother started crying. Dave consoled her to the best of his ability, got out of the car with her, and sat down near the water, where he could see the front tires touching it, but not deep enough to get submerged. Mother fell asleep, so they spent the night out there, by the lake. That wasn’t the first time that she had leaned on Dave, a fucking five-year-old, for emotional support, but she had never put his life at risk, either, so the shock brought her back to reality a little bit. Not much, though; she still turned to him for consolation and taught him how to care for her wounds, but the drunk driving ended. With all of the shit that she pulled, I’m surprised social services didn’t take him away from her. I guess that’s where Dana came in, covering for her when needed.” 

Dirk shook his head, falling silent. Karkat was at such a deep loss of words that, even if he avidly wanted to say a single thing right now, he would never be able to. He was paralyzed in shock and mute out of words. In the kitchen, only the sound of the cars that drove past far down on the street muffled its way past the open window, to replace the silence between them. Otherwise, Karkat would’ve been able to hear the ringing in his own ears. 

This was a lot. 

“Fuck.” He finally said, as the weight of Dirk’s words settled into his chest and unscrambled itself from his jumbled up brain. No wonder Dave avoided his mother like the Devil. “Shit, man, that’s… Damn.” 

“Yeah. Just don’t tell Dave I told you.” 

“I won’t.” 

He literally never fucking would. 


	16. Reality check

While Dave made them breakfast in the morning, Karkat caught himself staring from across the counter, perched on a stool, with droopy eyes and his chin in a hand. He was unapologetically in love with this guy, even if he hadn’t actually said that out loud yet, or even come close to mentioning the word love at all. It was a little early, he felt, to be bringing that up yet, or making this a lot more serious than it needed to be, when he knew damn well that his tender little heart was completely converted at this point and would not be letting Dave go so soon. He knew that Dave felt the same, too, and that was what mattered, regardless if they were still a little uncomfortable with saying those exact words to each other. He said it to himself very easily, but that was because he had known it for a while now. His helplessness toward love didn’t exactly keep him from falling  _ hard _ and with all that he had, tenderly and strongly until breath escaped him entirely, into a blissful existence, or until someone screwed up and broke his very fragile little glass heart. He hadn’t experienced the first one yet, but the more time passed, the more it seemed that this was it. This was the one. And he was incredibly happy to witness it. 

Sitting in the bus on the way to campus, he pressed a big kiss to the side of Dave’s face, making Dave turn to look at him with the beginnings of a smile on his lips, which Karkat kissed, too. Their hands firmly held onto one another during the entire ride there. 

“Thank you for everything.” He told Dave in a whisper pressed to his lips. “I owe you the world.” 

Dave met with his mouth again before pulling back to grin wide and bright down at him. 

“You’re here, so I have that already.” 

He rolled his eyes, unable to keep a smile from tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“I’m going to vomit.” 

Dave laughed and threw an arm around him as the bus cut through town. 

With the mystery of Dave’s background gone, he could concentrate on enjoying his time with the boy that made his heart swell and on the happiness that they achieved together. Dave made classes bearable, nights unforgettable, and mornings warm, existing so often by his side at this point that, in an instance or two, he almost forgot that 27-A was his actual home, or was supposed to be, anyway, even if it had never felt like it. The more he spent time with Dave, the less he actually set foot in that building, at times forgetting that half of his wardrobe had been left in there for weeks on end, dirty as Hell, and sprawled all across his bedroom floor, if Xefros hadn’t done him the favor of trashing all of his clothes and sanitizing the entirety of the room by now. He hadn’t spoken to Xefros in a while, but he still saw his friends in class everyday, and occasionally said a word or two to Sollux, but, as time passed, and weeks turned into months, the whole of them slowly lost touch. Not because they ostracized him, or unfriended him, but because he simply didn’t spend time with them anymore, always accompanied by Dave and sleeping over so often that he practically lived with the two Striders this far into the year. 

At first, Dave consistently made plans to get him to come over. Everyday was something different, a new movie to watch at the theater, a new restaurant to try, a new recipe that Dave was sure that Karkat would love for dinner, and so on, just to get him to spend the night and share the bed, until Dave ran out of ideas. His excuses to have Karkat over slowly died down with his creativity, to the point when he’d text Karkat to come over because he had a surprise for him (the surprise turned out to be Dave himself), or to come over because then they could do something fun and exciting (watching a movie and spending time together). It was a noble but completely unnecessary effort, because Karkat didn’t go over for the entertainment, obviously; he went over to be with Dave. That was all, easy and simple, but of course he didn’t go right out and say it; he let Dave drain his ideas first, enjoying the lengths that he went just to invite Karkat for the night, until Dave flat out just told him that he missed him, and kind of, you know, would really appreciate spending the night together or whatever. They had Baby Driver on Netflix now, didn’t Karkat care to watch it with him? Dave could make him some soup. Dave could bring down the fuzzy, red blanket that he liked for this. Dave could write him a rap and perform it in the living room for him. 

The more Karkat accepted those invitations, the more certain he was that Dave despised sleeping by himself. He stopped having nightmares about his mother, but Dirk’s room still wasn’t allowed to have the door closed, and Dirk was required to always be around, not in case of an emergency, but for emotional support; just because Dave felt safe with his brother right there, readily available for anything. That wasn’t a mystery to figure out, because Dave always knew where his brother was, at any second of the day, even if Dirk had gone out for a few hours on business. Karkat had soon learned that Dirk ran a factory, and had to show up there every once in a while, which didn’t send Dave spiraling down into despair because he trusted Dirk to come back, and, of course, Dirk always did. Karkat supposed that that attachment was due to how over vigilant Dave’s mother had always been with him ever since birth, and, as Dave shifted his trust from the mother onto the brother, that sort of omnipresence ended up being expected out of Dirk instead. Dirk took that in stride, always telling Dave when he’d go out and his ETA back home, which was always eerily accurate, almost robotic, and stupefyingly impressive. When Dirk said he’d get home by 7:13PM, he got home by 7:13PM. At this point, Karkat was convinced that Dirk wasn’t entirely human. 

Practically living with the Striders didn’t make it so Karkat forgot about his friends, though. He saw them everyday, and noticed when, a month before winter break, Aradia didn’t show up for class. The first time that that happened didn’t alarm Karkat, because he had no reason to worry for his friend missing class one single day, but then this one day turned into two, into three, a week, and concern slowly crawled up his back. Even the others had closed the gap where Aradia’s seat usually was, with Sollux rubbing elbows with Dammek now, as well as with Karkat on his other side. 

“Sollux.” He whispered one day, leaning closer to his friend. “Where’s Aradia? She hasn’t been to class in a while.” 

“She’s fine. I mean, she’s not coming back to class, but she’s totally fine, don’t worry.” 

“Why isn’t she coming to class anymore? Where is she?” 

“Somewhere better.” 

Karkat gave Sollux a look, but his heterochromic friend had both eyes fixed at the front of the class, where the professor lectured, clearly not paying him much mind. Sollux obviously wasn’t worried for his moirail, which gave Karkat no reason to worry for her, either. That made his concern turn into curiosity, and pushed him to fish out his phone to contact Aradia herself. If he couldn’t get satisfactory answers from his friend, then he’d get them from the source. 

 

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling  apocalypseArisen [AA] \--

CG: ARADIA, YOU’RE MISSING A VERY EDUCATIONAL AND HIGHLY BENEFICIAL EXPOSITION ON THE VARIOUS UTILITIES OF OYSTER FORKS RIGHT NOW. WHERE ARE YOU? I’M GOING TO FILE A MISSING PERSONS REPORT IF YOU CONTINUE TO SKIP CLASS LIKE THIS. YOU’RE BECOMING A DELINQUENT. WHO INFLUENCED YOU DOWN THIS DARK AND TROUBLESOME PATH? IT’S NOT WORTH IT. THEY’RE NOT A REAL FRIEND. DON’T TRUST THEM!!!!!

AA: 0_0

AA: hey karkat

CG: HEY YOU SOFT-SPOKEN MYSTERY OF A TROLL. WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN? 

AA: its kind 0f a funny st0ry actually

AA: n0t really

AA: i was transferred

CG: WHY? AND WHERE? AND WHAT’S WITH THIS NEW TYPING QUIRK YOU HAVE? WHY IS EVERYTHING CHANGING FASTER THAN I CAN KEEP UP WITH? I’M DIZZY. I NEED TO LAY THE FUCK DOWN.

CG: I’M JOKING BY THE WAY. I KNOW YOU’RE NOT GOOD WITH JOKES, HOW THEY WORK, WHAT THEY MEAN AND HOW TO READ THEM, SO I’M TELLING YOU RIGHT OUT. I’M KIDDING. THAT WAS A JOKE. I’M NOT DIZZY AND NOTHING’S REALLY CHANGING. I USED SARCASM UP THERE. 

AA: 0k

CG: WOW I NEVER RIGHTFULLY APPRECIATED HOW TERSE YOU ARE. THAT’S A QUALITY AND A HALF TO HAVE AROUND THESE PARTS. YOUR CONCISE ANSWER REALLY EXPLAINED EVERYTHING I JUST ASKED ABOUT. 

AA: i g0t transferred t0 a different l0cati0n what else d0 y0u need t0 kn0w

CG: HOW DID THAT HAPPEN? I’VE NEVER SEEN ANYONE GET TRANSFERRED BEFORE. 

AA: y0ure werent ar0und t0 kn0w s0 im n0t surprised that y0ure c0nfused ab0ut it

CG: OUCH. 

AA: did y0u try asking s0llux

CG: YES I DID. HE’S ABOUT AS USELESS AND COMPLETELY UNHELPFUL AS A GRUB THAT JUST LOST ITS SIX LEGS TO PUBERTY 101. WHY DO YOU THINK I’M COMING TO YOU INSTEAD? 

AA: 0_0

AA: i g0t transferred because 0f my newf0und p0wers

CG: ARE YOU A PSYCHIC TOO?

AA: yes

AA: i w0nt be c0ming back t0 class 0r t0 the building

AA: but im still ar0und

CG: AM I GOING TO SEE YOU AGAIN?

AA: the answer t0 that questi0n is inc0nsequential

AA: y0u have a matesprit

AA: we b0th kn0w he takes up 99% 0f y0ur time

CG: WHAT THE FUCK

CG: THAT’S NOT HERE NOR THERE BUT HOW DID YOU KNOW?

AA: its evident

AA: everyb0dy kn0ws

CG: HUH.

AA: i have t0 g0

AA: pr0tect him when the new era c0mes 

\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased trolling  carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

 

Karkat scowled down at the screen. “Protect him when the new era comes”? He had no idea what that meant, but it spread a very unwelcome sense of foreboding across his chest anyway, one that he didn’t appreciate or like in the slightest, so he put his phone away and decided not to overthink any of that. Aradia was probably just spewing out nonsense to make herself sound prophetical and almighty, as per usual. No reason for concern.

“Hey, idiot, why didn’t you just tell me that she got transferred?” He whispered over to Sollux again, leaning closer to him. Sollux shrugged.

“That’s boring.” 

Karkat rolled his eyes. 

After class, he usually took the bus from the campus to Dave’s neighborhood and walked the short distance over to his house, lamenting the fact that he couldn’t use the subway system to get there much, much faster, but still glad that he was welcome in the Strider household in the first place, and didn’t have to live at 27-A anymore, or even really look at it. He went to the stop, which happened to be completely deserted this time around, thought nothing of that, and hopped onto the bus when it arrived. For the first time ever, absolutely all of the seats were empty, which finally started to put some doubt into his mind that maybe something was wrong here. Maybe he had taken a wrong turn somewhere. He was just about to walk past the driver when the man barred him with a loud and stern voice. 

“Bracelet, please.” 

He turned at the man with a scowl on his forehead. 

“What?” 

“I’m required to see your bracelet now. Were you informed about the changes?” 

His heart skipped a beat. He had spent so much time in his little bubble that whatever announcement that had been made at 27-A through the overhead speakers hadn’t reached him for a reason, and his friends hadn’t thought necessary to tell him about that, either. His face colored. 

“I didn’t understand what they said.” 

That was a less embarrassing way to admit that he didn’t know what was going on, he supposed, and stuck to it. The bus driver looked very tired at that, probably seeing right through him. 

“Little trolls like you aren’t allowed to roam the streets anymore, at any time of day, unless explicitly allowed by their owners. So, if you have one, I need to see the serial number on your bracelet.” 

His breathing hitched at the man’s insistence to look at something that he didn’t have, and his blood ran hot with the knowledge that, now, suddenly, trollkind lived under constant curfew. It was ridiculous, and had come out of nowhere, but he didn’t have a voice to fight against that, and simply apologized before stepping out of the bus once again. His hands were closed in fists and he wanted to punch something, or shout at someone, but nobody was around, and the only thing closest to him was the bus station overlooked by officials standing just across the street, so, instead of taking his anger out on an inanimate object of public domain, he walked back to the campus, safely secured behind its open gates for a moment longer before they closed. He pulled out his phone and called Dave, his only ticket out of here. 

As it rang, he breathed out. 

“Hey, man.” 

“Hey, dude.” The way that he managed to not immediately snap at any little thing was a good indication of his success at calming himself down, and remaining in line. “Something happened and, uh, I’ll need you to come pick me up. Sorry.” 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll tell you everything in the car.” 

After they bid each other see you soons and hung up, he instantly called Sollux’s number next, allowing for the fire from a minute ago to reemerge and completely consume him this time around. He was absolutely pissed and needed to take it out on somebody, which just so happened to be his good friend, also known as the asshole who hadn’t thought to inform him about this bracelet bullshit in the first place, knowing that he took the fucking bus downtown every single day. His face burned as he listened to the ringing on the other side of the line, nearly seeing the campus red. 

“Hey, KK.” 

“You son of a fucking bitch, Sollux, thanks for fucking nothing, man! Thanks for  _ not _ telling me about the announcement, asshole! Now I’m the one who looks like an idiot out here by the bus stop. Fuck you.” 

“Oh, yeah. That. I forgot to tell you, but we’re not allowed out anymore.” 

“No fucking shit, you don’t say.” 

“Don’t blame me, dude. I’m sure your human boys will find a way around that to save you the inconvenience. You’re fine.” 

He wanted to deck Sollux square in the face for saying that, and double the dose because Sollux was probably right about it, too. It pissed him off just how nonchalant his friend sounded on the phone, not worried about him being outside past curfew, and with reason for that. It was infuriating how he didn’t have the right to be mad, and was, in fact, privileged to have two humans carefully looking after him. He didn’t even know how he would’ve gotten out of this one otherwise. What if someone took a little too long in the classroom and missed the bus to the building? Would they be sent straight to rehab for it? That seemed a little too extreme for a punishment that didn’t involve any wrongdoing, but Karkat couldn’t be the judge of any of that. He didn’t know how anything worked at this point, and didn’t want to get educated on the newest police brutality if it didn’t affect him, either. 

It was still insane to think that none of that actually affected him. 

Driven up the wall by both Sollux and himself, Karkat hung up in his friend’s face and shoved his phone in a pocket. Whatever, he thought to himself, huffing through a hard scowl carved into his forehead, it didn’t matter. He was fine; Dave would pick him up, they’d talk about this, and Dirk would find a way around it, if he didn’t have a plan already. Knowing Dirk, Karkat wouldn’t be too surprised if he got into that car and Dirk greeted him with the solution to all of this before he had even explained what had just happened to him. Dirk probably already knew, somehow, and was pulling out the antidote for him to take. Unbelievable. 

It felt really fucking awful to have to wait for Dave to come save him from the fiery jaws of Law Enforcement as if he were a damsel in infuriating distress and Dave were the brave knight that did nothing but rescue him from the injustices of the world and the tracks of the rapidly approaching doom that he seemed to very often find himself tied on. It was exhausting, and made him feel not only useless, but also as a nuisance for the guy, taking up space in his bed, taking out gas from his tank and time from his life. Karkat leaned onto the university gates and fought the urge to bang his head open until the brothers arrived for the rescue, the knight of the cavalry accompanied by the prince of the castle. Karkat was nothing if not the slimey troll under the bridge that they should’ve been defeating. 

Getting into the car, he wondered if it was too late to tell that bus driver to go fuck himself. 

“So what happened?” Dave asked him as Dirk merged back onto the street. 

“Apparently, only certified trolls can walk the streets now. How fucking stupid is that? I bet their contracts have a checkbox for it, even.  _ Yes, _ Mr. Noir, I’ll allow this gray boy to take the B Line and buy me groceries every Wednesday afternoon.” 

He was still fuming, but managed to (arguably) keep that under control for the moment, even though it was crystal clear to everyone in the car that he’d have to shove his face into a pillow later and scream furiously until his vocal chords gave to fully calm down. After punching something, that was the best way to channel his anger outside of his system, at least that he knew of, and that had worked decently in the past. 

“Can you go out if we’re with you, though?” 

“Yeah, probably. I find it hard to believe that an officer would ever stop you to ask after me.” 

Dave fell silent. 

“There was what the officials called a ‘terrorist attack’ on an UPS truck last week.” Dirk coolly jumped in, with eyes fixed on the traffic ahead. “An IED exploded the back of it open and a molotov set fire to everything inside. Eyewitnesses say it was the work of a troll and reports say that the police accidentally ran over the culprit during the chase, which prompted the state to better regulate troll access to certain places. If you ask me, I don’t think half of that’s true, but that’s where necessary ownership to ride a bus originated from. Good news is, certified trolls can now ride the subway.” 

Oh, that was great; certified trolls could now ride the subway. Wow. It was almost as if this huge load of steaming hot bullshit that had nothing to do with him but affected him directly and absolutely worsened his quality of life was worth it for the owned trolls. He wished he was included in them just to be able to legally jump into the tracks. 

“Where did you read that? It wasn’t on the TV.” Dave asked as Karkat contemplated his own mortality. 

“It wasn’t broadcast, but it’s online, if you know where to look.” 

In silence, Karkat watched some cars pass by his window. The fire in his chest slowly died down and got replaced with a vague feeling that weighed his shoulders down and had his breath coming out heavier. Living in a bubble was really much better than experiencing reality out there, and he decided that he didn’t mind not knowing everything that happened, or the new ways that the government found to discriminate against his people if it only served to piss him off, and spill from his eyes at night. He’d much rather live in blissful ignorance to all of that, and did just so, since he happened to have the opportunity to follow through, namely Dave and Dirk Strider, as well as a television that was only ever tuned to Pawn Stars and home improvement shows rather than the news. The failure of the current government was never actually broadcast, but that was beside the point. 

From this day forward, Karkat only went out accompanied by either one of the Strider brothers and got picked up from campus every afternoon without paying any of that a single thought. It didn’t hurt if he didn’t actively think about it. At one point, he even considered talking with Dave about the ownership bracelets, but ultimately decided against it, because of nothing other than that would’ve been a strange conversation to have, and he wasn’t ready for it, either. Dave wasn’t even twenty-one for that, anyway, and he wasn’t sure that he was okay with the concept of being some human’s literal property, signed under their name, and registered in the government database as a serial number. It was a strange and ironically dehumanizing thought to have, which compressed his chest and hurt his eyes. He decided to never consider it again.

Entering the red Honda about a week before winter break, already finished up and looking normal enough to pass as a regular car by now, Karkat not only found the Striders in there, but he also came across a small child sitting on the backseat, as well, that greeted him with a very polite little hello around a tiny smile. She didn’t look like either one of the brothers, so Karkat believed that they probably weren’t related. Without knowing who this was, he greeted her right back. 

“Karkat, that’s Rose. She’ll be spending the next few hours with us.” Dirk explained in his way that didn’t actually explain much of anything. Karkat just nodded in response to that.

“I know a lot about you.” Rose commented easily, sending a shiver down Karkat’s back. Her purple little eyes seemed to read him like an open book. 

“Really?” He asked. If he sounded awkward and nervous, that was simply a mirror of how he felt inside.

“Yes. Mom and uncle Dirk talk a lot about you, and she really wants to meet you, but I don’t think she likes you very much.” 

_ Uncle _ Dirk? That couldn’t be right. Didn’t that mean that Dirk would have to have been the brother of this child’s mother to be an actual uncle? Karkat didn’t know a single thing about the structure of a normal human family to know if that was even right, though, so it probably wasn’t. Maybe Dirk had another half-sibling that Karkat didn’t know about, and maybe that was all wrong after all. On the one hand, it explained a lot that Dirk knew the mother of this child, but on the other, it wasn’t exactly relieving to know that there was a human out there that hated Karkat without even having met him at all. In retrospect, though, he probably shouldn’t have been surprised by that. It must’ve been the case with most humans, actually, but why was Dirk going around talking about him with other humans, anyway? That new bit of information made him feel strange, almost like a commodity or an exotic animal that the Striders had taken from the jungle to be talked about over dinner parties. He wasn’t sure that he liked it.

“Of course she does.” Dirk cut in from the front. “You know how much your mother supports the troll community.” 

A human that supported the troll community?

“I know, but she never sounds very happy when talking about him.” Rose defended herself. 

“Don’t let yourself be tricked by how she sounds like.” 

“She sounds mad, uncle Dirk, and I believe that means she feels mad, too.” 

“She’s not mad  _ at _ him, though. She’s mad at certain circumstances.” 

“I know. She’s mad at slavery.” 

What?

“Sure.” 

What the Hell was going on? From the way that this all sounded, this kid’s mother seemed to be some sort of troll activist or something, but that was impossible. No human ever gave a shit about trollkind, much less went out of their way to assert their rights, unless that was only an act, made for show, to get them positively talked about. Media coverage was everything. Maybe this kid’s mother was one of those pretend saviors, fake fighters for the cause, or, as Karkat liked to call them, politicians, there for the screen time. That must’ve been it, so why was Dirk defending this person? He and this kid Rose were obviously very close, given the way that they spoke with each other, on a clearly familiar level, which meant that, if they weren’t related, then Dirk must’ve known the kid’s mother very well, to the point that he were over often enough to have even the kid get used to him, treating him as family. Karkat wasn’t sure just what that entailed, but he didn’t feel particularly joyful about it. 

If Dirk and Rose’s mother were as close as this conversation framed them to be, then maybe Dirk didn’t always go out to party when he left the apartment. Maybe he was visiting them, and fairly regularly, too, so what did that mean? Did Dirk have a sister? That felt weird to think about. The longer Karkat spent with this family, the less he seemed to know about them. How had he never heard of this child before? In a quick rush of cold blood dashing through his veins and insanity clouding his judgement, Karkat wondered, for a split second, if Dirk were the father of this kid. Was he? Probably not, or Rose would’ve called him something else. Right? Suddenly, he didn’t know a single thing. 

At the apartment, the child addressed Karkat again.

“Do you live here, too?” 

“Yeah.” Dave answered for him, even though that wasn’t very accurate to what was actually happening. He didn’t technically live here, but he didn’t  _ not _ live here, either. 

“Kinda.” He clarified without clarifying anything, pulling a Dirk on this one. 

“Because you want to?” She asked.

“Yeah. Hard to believe, I know.” 

“I don’t think so. Aren’t you in love with cousin Dave?” 

Cousin? Karkat was too choked up by the question to really think too much about that. He felt his eyes widening and his face coloring, perfectly still, without turning to glance at his matesprit standing beside him. Dave was staring at the side of his face, he could see that in his peripherals, and feel it on his cheek, but he refused to look back. If Dave were smirking or not, he wouldn’t know. 

“Uh, yeah.” 

His heart was racing and he could feel his ribs shaking with it.

“Then of course you want to be here.” Rose wrapped up her point with the face of someone who knew exactly what they were talking about. 

Karkat couldn’t find it in him to look Dave in the shades. 

“Is Dave really your cousin?” He asked, to deviate from the point and get their conversation flowing elsewhere less dangerous and awkward. 

“Of course.” Rose shrugged.

“Not literally.” Dave explained. 

At that, Karkat breathed out. He supposed, then, that these titles were all random, picked by this very child to label the people that were close to her, and often present in her life, without any family ties to her or her mother. It made a lot of sense, because, otherwise, Dirk would have to have been Dave’s father for Dave to have been her cousin, and none of that was even remotely true to life, as far as Karkat knew. At this point, though, he’d hardly be surprised to find out that the Strider brothers had even more half-siblings out there, roaming this Earth.

“Can you play something for me, cousin Dave?” 

At the request, Dave promptly walked over to the turntables sitting by the left wing of the living room. 

“Yeah, man, you know it.” 

Their afternoon was spent singing off-tune to old Broadway musicals with an improvised remix of their arrangements in the background while Dirk worked on what looked to have been a synthetic thorax on the couch. He looked so relaxed and comfortable sitting there that Karkat doubted he was taking the project in his hands very seriously, even though he always and simultaneously took everything both seriously and not seriously at all. He was a walking paradox, and Karkat was finally starting to grasp that concept. 

A few minutes before dinnertime, while both Dave and Dirk did their daily song and dance in the kitchen to prepare supper, stepping around each other to bring down the condiments and wash the dishes while the other kept a vigilant eye on the stove, the doorbell rang, prompting both Karkat and Rose to go check on it. With the passage of these last few months, Karkat learned that the brothers both had an app on their phones, and, in Dirk’s case, also on his high-tech glasses, that informed them of the safe-like door’s facial recognition of whoever that had just knocked, as a security measure, so while Karkat still found himself in the process of crossing the room toward the door, Dirk, from the kitchen, already let him know who it was. 

“Go ahead and open the door, Karkat. It’s Roxy.” 

Karkat wasn’t an idiot, and guessed that this was the kid’s mother, who apparently hated him, but also fought for his rights. He approached the panel next to the door and pressed the button to have it unlock, watching the camera on the meanwhile, silently scrutinizing the face of the woman at the doorstep. She looked a lot like her child, and even a little bit like Dirk himself, although not by much; maybe only the hair color, beauty and height. Where had all of these extremely tall people come from? While Karkat quietly waxed poetic to himself, Roxy pushed the door open and let herself into the apartment as if she lived here. From that, he could clearly see that she and Dirk were very close friends, if nothing else. 

“Hello, Karkat!” Roxy greeted him enthusiastically first thing, pushing the door closed behind herself. The way that she addressed him before everybody else, and sounding so lively, too, surprised Karkat to an immediate halt. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! I’m Roxy Lalonde.” 

Roxy reached a hand for him to shake, which he took with a second of delay. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Did Dirk tell you about me?” 

At the question, his eyes absently passed a glance over at the kitchen, where the two brothers were clearly able to listen to their conversation. Dirk was very obviously about to say something to that, and even pointed a spatula in Roxy’s direction to make his point.

“You think I didn’t? You were the talk of the day.” 

Roxy partially turned to give Dirk a look, but still remained mostly faced toward Karkat. 

“I take it that’s because you didn’t care to tell him about me before this.” 

That made Dirk fall silent and a wide smirk cut across Roxy’s face. Her warm pinks locked themselves onto Karkat’s face, once again, as she continued in her triumph. 

“He’s nervous about me being here, because he thinks I’ll make you uncomfortable. He actually didn’t want us to meet before New Year’s Eve.” 

So Dirk had been keeping his good friend and her child both a secret from Karkat on purpose all this time. It really explained a lot in regards as to why Karkat hadn’t known either one of them for so long, given just how close these two were to the Strider family. That wasn’t all that surprising to learn, because, sure, he could see why Dirk would believe that Roxy would make him uncomfortable, considering the rumors about her being a troll activist as factual truth, but, for as intimidating as that made her seem, in reality, she seemed like a genuinely nice person. Karkat was always nervous about meeting new humans, not because he was afraid to be discriminated against, but because he wasn’t sure how to properly act around them, and if he happened to screw up, that might come back to bite him in the form of legal charges and other, worse matters, so he really understood where Dirk had been coming from, and didn’t resent him for it. Dirk had only been trying to protect him. 

“What’s happening on New Year’s Eve?” He asked. 

“A big party!, courtesy of myself, of course, at my pretty little home. I went to lengths to put that place together, and now that it’s finally done, I like to celebrate with my good friends whenever I can. You’re all invited, obviously. You guys have lifetime invitations to all of my events.” 

Karkat’s brows lifted. He wasn’t much of a partygoer, but, from the way that Roxy had described the soirée, that actually seemed like it’d be a genuinely good time. Roxy seemed nice, her kid seemed nice, and the Striders would be there, too, so Karkat had no reason to think that the occasion would flop, or that he’d feel left out in any way. With Dave right by his side, he’d never feel out of place again, anyway, or get in trouble for it, which made him incredibly flattered to accept the invite, and get to know Roxy better over dinner. Surprisingly, she didn’t get into detail, or even broached any touchy topics about trollkind and her rumored activism in conversation, making their evening a light and fun one for all involved. They all spoke of themselves, the friends that they had in common, and what they had been up to for the last few days. 

As they chatted, it became clear that both Dirk and Roxy on the exact same wavelength about virtually everything; so perfectly synchronized with one another that they were one hair away from finishing each other’s sentences. It was really heartwarming to see, and made Karkat wonder if they weren’t, in fact, a couple of sorts. They didn’t speak of romantic matters, and barely touched each other, aside from the playful shoves on the shoulder here and there, whenever Dirk said something vaguely outrageous that made Roxy burst out laughing, which pretty much instantly categorized them as moirails to Karkat, regardless if humans had that going for them or not. Karkat didn’t care, and wouldn’t say a thing about it; it just helped him understand the relationship between these two of he labeled them in his head, and kept that to himself. 

On a tangential thought, that was probably the healthiest example of moirallegiance that he had seen in a while. 

When New Year’s Eve came by, the three of them drove up to the party in Dave’s red Frankenstein Honda with Dirk still behind the wheel for now. At this point, Dave had gone through all of the registration process and most of the classes, but still hadn’t completed everything, or taken the final exam. He was almost there, just not there yet, and Dirk really didn’t mind driving them around for a little while longer, which didn’t hurry Dave to get his license, and probably half-ass his learning experience. It was important that he learned everything correctly, id est, how not to run people over, so letting him take his time with it was a smart move. 

When Roxy had talked about the party a bit, she had made a point to say that she lived in a “pretty little home,” so Karkat really didn’t picture that place to be so… Not very humble in the slightest. Apparently, if this were really the correct location, Roxy lived in a huge mansion of two stories in a particularly spectacular part of Houston, not too far from Dirk’s apartment, but just far enough from everything else to almost look like a different part of the country entirely, perhaps even some European neighborhood from the TV shows, with the wide lawns and the prevalent nature. Karkat almost felt betrayed while leaving the car to walk over to the steps that lead to the entrance door, accompanied by the two Striders, one of which left the car keys with the chauffeur that came over to greet them. The  _ chauffeur. _ This was surreal, and he wanted to ask Dirk if they were really at the right place, after all, because this just couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. The three of them climbed the steps to the double-doors and let themselves in, to be greeted by Roxy herself, holding a tray of expensive-looking cocktails. This was an alternate reality. 

“Hey, guys! Thanks for coming. Karkat, please make yourself at home. I can’t offer you one of these, but there’s juice at the bar.” Roxy spoke gleefully, pointing at a general direction within the depths of the expansive living room (foyer?) to indicate the bar. 

Karkat barely knew what to make of this. 

“Thanks, uh.” He briefly glanced about himself. “Lovely home.” 

“You didn’t expect it to be this big, did you?” 

“Not really.”

“Me neither, but you can’t very well hold a charity event in a two-bedroom apartment, can you? That’s why I had this built instead.” 

His brows raised. 

“Go on, look around. I’ll go talk to you later.” Roxy continued, ushering him further in with a hand as she spoke. It was pretty comical, and conquered a smile out of him, besides getting him to comply to that, as well. 

Dave took his hand, staying at his side, and Dirk remained by Roxy, at the very entrance, already chatting her up. It was only natural that he’d want to stick with his moirail rather than wander around this ballroom by himself, surrounded by strangers. What even was the exact classification of this room, anyway? The ceiling was two stories high, the east wing of it had a huge television on the wall with couches all around it, a big, expensive rug on the floor, and a portion of it leading over to the open-concept kitchen; the west wing was filled with sturdy bookshelves, more couches, a few paintings and sculptures of wizards; the very center had a wide, white stairway to the second floor with red rope railings blocking off entrance, and, across from it, there was a two-story high wizard statue that really freaked Karkat out. It was so fucking weird, looking down at everyone, positioned as if in the middle of casting a spell. He didn’t like it at all, and decided not to stare at it for too long. So was this a ballroom, living room, foyer, or none of the above?  _ All _ of the above? He didn’t understand the Houston elite. 

Despite the exorbitant number of people under the one same roof, Karkat found himself not having to try very hard to have a good time here. Nobody knew him, approached him, or even looked at him too much, which was great; Dave kept him company throughout the entire evening, which was even better; and the juice that they served at the bar was surprisingly good. The bartender told him it was tomatoes with kale, and, judging by the looks that the people in the vicinity gave him, that wasn’t something that humans usually had, possibly explaining why he had found it so tasty in the end. He even offered it to Dave, who was very steadfast with the refusal, proving his theory. 

The evening was spent mostly speaking with Dave, sipping on tomato juice, and noticing a great lack of trophy trolls around. In settings like this, Karkat had come to expect a well-dressed few of his kind to upset him and remind him of the reality that he lived in, but nothing of the sort happened here, which was interesting, and different, and had him trying to figure out why, or how that was. Did Roxy forbid them from coming? Was this a troll-free zone, except for the one troll under her moirail’s guardianship? That wouldn’t be very fair, but it’d explain the phenomenon happening here, and, as moirallegiances went, Karkat wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Roxy had some general life exceptions for Dirk and Dirk alone. He didn’t mention any of this internal monologue to Dave, though, for obvious reasons, and waited until Roxy came over to speak with them to really bring it up. 

With Dirk hanging off her elbow, Roxy took a seat across from both Dave and Karkat on the other side of the glass coffee table that decorated this portion of the living room. (He had decided to call this entire place the living room.) She had a glass of water in hand while Dirk downed the remnants what looked to have been a margarita once. 

“How are you guys liking the party?” She asked around a perfectly black smile.

“It’s… Pretty, and expensive.” Karkat answered, absently swirling the tomato juice around in his glass. 

“The chauffeur is new.” Dave commented. 

“Yeah, he is. People complained about having to find somewhere to park, so I just hired him for tonight. He’s a sweet guy.” 

“Can I ask something unbefitting of tonight?” He rudely cut in, feeling his own heart race from it. As Roxy’s warm pinks fell on him again, he continued without permission. “I know we just met a few weeks ago, and you barely know me, and I have virtually no place here, but where are the trophy trolls?” 

Roxy’s eyes widened at that, making his pulse worsen, and his hands almost smash the glass that they held just to gut himself with the shards. He knew, immediately, that he shouldn’t have opened his mouth.

“Oh, Karkat, nobody here condones troll ownership. We don’t pour thousands of dollars into an industry that treats sentient beings as inanimate objects up for grabs.” 

His heart was beating so fast that it almost choked him. 

“So you really are on our side?” 

The question was small, and slipped past his lips from so deep within his heart that he barely noticed himself saying it. 

“I’m on the side of what’s right.” Roxy clarified. “You’re the only troll here because you’re part of our family, not because anyone has any right over you. Just look at your wrists, Karkat; you don’t belong to anybody but yourself, and that’s how it should always have been.” 

Absently, his free hand touched where the bracelet would’ve been. 

“No one here is your enemy, so feel free to mingle, alright?” Roxy smiled kindly and got up from the couch, pulling Dirk to stand with her. “I have other guests to talk to, but don’t be afraid to come to me for anything that you need, whenever. I’ll see you later!” 

His heart slowly came back down as the anxiety that roamed his veins got replaced with a warm feeling that spread through his chest. Maybe having chosen the human’s side hadn’t been such a bad idea. 

About fifteen minutes before the new year countdown, the rope railings were removed from in front of the stairway, and everybody went up to the second-floor balcony outside that overlooked a huge portion of Houston. The view there was incredible, and Karkat felt himself already breathless by it, before the fireworks had even started going off. He had managed to sneak a place at the very front, by the railing, with Dave right next to him. A cold breeze swept past the crowd up here, making him pull up the hood to cover his own ears and step closer to Dave, who wrapped both arms around him, and brought him into a warm hug. The low temperatures that winter carried had started to affect him in full this far into the season, and neither one of them appreciated that. He couldn’t wait for summer to come back around. 

“Are we kissing on midnight?” Dave asked him, voice smooth and low on the side of his face. 

He turned to look into the red eyes that watched him unshielded, feeling a scowl form on his forehead. Every end of the year movie that he had watched and book that he had read before had had at least one couple kissing under a mistletoe, or as the clock struck midnight, but he had never understood where this tradition had come from; if it was, in fact, tradition, and his consumed media had never explained it, either, which rendered him confused for many, many years, although still daydreaming about it himself, as the embarrassingly hopeless romantic that he was. Humans had a lot of unexplained behaviors that he had never learned in troll school, some of which he didn’t absolutely despise, like this one. He had never thought that he’d actually get the chance to do it. 

“Why?” He asked curiously, prompting Dave to elaborate. 

In response, Dave simply shrugged. 

“It just means good luck. Like, we’ll be good for the next year, I guess. That’s what I heard.” 

“If we don’t, we’ll break up tomorrow morning?” 

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to run the risk.” 

He grinned with how adorable that was. Kissing one’s partner at the very beginning of the year in hopes of strengthening their relationship for the months to come was absolutely endearing, and couldn’t keep from showing on his face. He locked both arms around Dave’s midsection, pulling him closer with his affection. 

“Alright. Don’t screw it up, then.” 

Dave’s grin back to him was so pretty that he could’ve kissed it ahead of time. 

When the clock struck twelve, they made sure to have each other safely held in their arms and mouths locked firmly together, smiles colliding with eyes closed. Karkat didn’t see the first few fireworks that popped with everybody’s cheering, but he heard them in the distance, and could picture their sparkling colors filling up the sky overhead, showering the town in glitter. He squeezed Dave’s waist, felt Dave hold him firmer, and thought to himself just how wonderfully the upcoming year would treat the two of them. 


	17. Healing, growing, and crashing back down

Most of Roxy’s guests left after the first few hours of the new year, swaying on their feet and babbling happy nonsense; spewing out just how much they loved and appreciated her and how much this evening meant to them every year. Despite their obvious inebriation, it was still a heartwarming sight, and put a small smile on Karkat’s face as he watched Roxy hug them all goodbye, one by one, until him and the Striders were the only ones left. He also spotted Rose somewhere in the living room by now, carrying a cup of tea in hand and what didn’t look to have been a children’s book, but a regular one, by the cover of it. She waved some of the guests goodbye from where she sat, seemingly unbothered by their inebriation and excessive attachment to one another. It wasn’t very difficult to notice that Rose behaved very maturely for a child her age, whatever that was. 

“Dave, can you show the guest rooms to Karkat? I’ll bring down some covers for the two of you.” Roxy spoke while pushing the front doors closed and locking them. 

At her request, Dave nodded. 

“Yeah, sure.” Dave said before turning to his matesprit and taking his hand, tugging on it to urge him to follow. “C’mon, you’ll love the decor upstairs.” 

Karkat frowned to himself, but followed Dave anyway. 

“Why are we sleeping over?” 

Dave passed him a glance as they crossed the living room toward the stairway. 

“Because we always do, and I’m pretty sure Bro’s too drunk to drive right now.” 

That wasn’t too hard to believe, considering just how many times Karkat had caught Dirk coming home drunk in these past few months. Dirk didn’t particularly go out a lot at night, but when he did, he made sure to not come back sober, or with anyone hanging from his arm, which Karkat could respect, just not understand. He had only gotten drunk that one time, and promptly put himself in a life-threatening situation, to, once again, be rescued by Dave and the safety of his apartment, unbeknownst to the guy, so he didn’t really understand a need to relive that, but he supposed that Dirk didn’t exactly act the same way that he did. Dirk’s nights out seemed to be completely self-indulgent rather than self-destructive, which explained why he kept going back. Absently, Karkat wondered if he was alright.

The first semester of the new year treated them kindly. Dave got his license, Dirk’s business grew, and Karkat fell deeper in love with each passing day, eternally grateful for having come across his matesprit in this lifetime. It took Dave a little while to get the hang of driving in the big city, which was far differently than driving around an isolated and calm neighborhood with an instructor sitting next to him at all times, but with his brother’s coaching, he soon got the hang of it, and managed to get around without any major incidents. They mostly drove about in the afternoon, when Dave had free time and Karkat was still in class, until it was time to swing by the campus to pick Karkat up, at which point they would all go back home with Dave behind the wheel to start preparing dinner. 

Sometime in March, Dirk decided that Dave’s driving would do just fine without him, and let his little brother pick Karkat up from school by himself. Karkat hadn’t been informed of that, but immediately noticed the empty passenger seat when Dave pulled up to the curb. 

“Are you finally good enough to drive alone?” He asked in the car, pulling the seatbelt across his own chest. 

“I guess.” 

Dave’s lack of enthusiasm got him turning to pass the guy a look. 

“What?” 

“It’s nothing, I just hate it.” Dave’s voice was perfectly monotone as he checked the left wing mirror before merging back onto the street, following the flow of the traffic. 

Karkat raised a brow. 

“You hate driving alone?” 

“I hate driving period, dude. It’s so stressful; cars are everywhere, making traffic really fucking slow, and people just straight up jump on your hood. They just fucking jump on your hood, man! Shit.” 

The car behind them honked while Dave talked, putting a hard crease in between his brows. 

“And this motherfucker. Do I look like a Goddamn wizard to him? I can’t make this light turn green, bro. Check yourself, my dude.” 

Karkat had to turn and face the passenger window to hide the grin that Dave’s frustration put on his face. It was completely unbecoming, but at least he didn’t laugh. This was hilarious in the worst possible way.

“God, man. Driving without anyone around is, like, totally idyllic, not this fucking Hell.  _ This _ is why they don’t teach you to drive downtown.” 

“Hey, c’mon, it’s not that bad. I mean, imagine how New York city must be like. This isn’t even near that.” 

“I’d kill myself before touching a car in New York city, man. That’s why the subway exists, you know, so this kind of bullshit can be avoided.” 

Karkat’s lips parted to answer, but only gaped in silence. He wanted to say that Houston had a subway system for that exact reason, but instantly remembered that Dave was here solely to pick him up because he couldn’t take the subway, or even catch a bus by himself. He was really the only reason that Dave had been put in this situation, and that sent a sharp sting through his chest. If he could’ve walked home, he would have. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Dave shook his head, driving off as the light turned green. 

“This car isn’t even that big, but I still feel like I’m gonna crash into someone or run a person over. It’s the worst. Did you know that, on the way over, an old guy punched the hood ‘cause he was crossing the street and thought I hadn’t seen him? Imagine backing out of a spot, then. Imagine parallel parking, dude! I want to barf all over the dashboard just thinking about it. Fuck.” 

Dave looked so tense, and sounded so anxious, that it filled the hole in the center of Karkat’s chest with enough weight to pull his shoulders down. He felt absolutely awful. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” He made his voice soft and kind while reaching to touch Dave on the shoulder. “This stuff will stop happening with practice, I’m sure. You know how your brother breezes through this? It’ll be the same with you in some time.” 

“He breezes through everything; he’s not a good example.” 

Dave’s quick and stern correction made Karkat’s mouth shut and his cheeks tingle. He felt like a complete idiot now. 

“That doesn’t mean you won’t get better with practice, though.” 

“No, I know, I just…” Dave shook his head, keeping the aviators locked straight ahead. “Whatever.” 

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. 

After that, Karkat tried not to speak of driving, or even really bring it up around Dave anymore, still feeling responsible for his matesprit’s discomfort toward it, which he soon realized ran a little bit deeper than just that. The more time Dave spent in traffic, the more he hated it, and seemed affected by it, to the point that his jaw set hard enough to form a headache, and his hands fidgeted on the wheel, accompanied by the rest of his very restless demeanor. The way Dave started acting in the car reminded Karkat of that one afternoon spent at Denise’s suburban house, and that scared Karkat beyond rational thinking. Getting criticized by drivers all around while hyper focused on the cars in the vicinity as not to crash into anyone, or run over a person, very obviously filled Dave with anxiety, and had Karkat wondering if this license hadn’t been a bad idea. 

It also had him thinking about what Denise had said in regards to Dave’s explosive behavior that Karkat had never seen, and that had put a scar on Dave’s torso before. He didn’t believe that driving in Hellish traffic would push Dave to the same extreme as living with his abusive mother for eighteen years, but, at this point, he was afraid of anything that even remotely nudged Dave out of his comfort zone. He didn’t know what exactly went on with Dave, was too afraid to ask, and didn’t know what to do about it other than walk on eggshells every time Dave’s leg started to bounce. 

On a second thought, Karkat wondered why Dirk wasn’t doing anything about this, and, instead, encouraged Dave to keep on driving. Was Dirk not seeing what Karkat had been seeing? He wanted to sucker punch Dirk every time he tossed Dave the keys, except he soon realized that Dirk actually saw this entire thing differently, because, when Dirk happened to be in the car with Dave behind the wheel, Dave didn’t complain, and his body sang with that; his posture was relaxed, his maneuvers were a lot more confident, and his peace of mind made him ignore the honking and the overall criticism when he screwed up. Whenever Dave forgot to glance at a mirror before merging, or distractedly didn’t notice someone starting to cross the street, the people outside were merciless with him, but, in the car, Dirk reassured him that he was still learning, and would soon have all of that on autopilot when behind the wheel. With Dirk in the car, Dave didn’t panic, which made Karkat realize that, as long as Dirk stuck around, Dave wouldn’t go completely off the rails, like he had done with his mother in the kitchen. 

Was that good? Dirk wouldn’t be around forever to constantly reassure his little brother that everything was alright, so wasn’t this a little counterproductive for the long run? Karkat understood that driving alone was a big deal, and something fairly new in Dave’s life, so it was only natural that he’d want Dirk there, by his side for that, but what about everything else? How Dave had to know where his brother was at all times, how Dirk couldn’t even sleep with his bedroom door closed, and how he needed to always be readily available simply for Dave to have some peace of mind. That all seemed like setbacks, in Karkat’s opinion, that bound Dave to his brother, and kept him from achieving independence. It was clear that Dave’s obsessive attachment to a protective figure was a result of years under his mother’s overbearing presence, so, maybe, growing out of that wasn’t so easy for him. Maybe he didn’t even realize the unhealthy grip that he had on Dirk’s wrist, as not to get lost in the moving crowd, when letting go and getting lost was the very next step. 

Karkat wasn’t sure what to do about that. He wanted to help Dave relax without his brother always around, and learn to get himself out of tricky situations without having a backup to call for, because he  _ could _ do this, and he  _ could _ get through anything, but Karkat wasn’t sure how to make Dave see that. He wasn’t even sure that he could, given where all of this was rooted. As he watched the faint stripes of light that the outside lampposts cast on Dave’s sleeping form, he wondered if this wasn’t the sort of job for a professional, rather than someone like him, without a single ounce of experience in outgrowing the lingering after effects of abuse. He remembered Denise, her strange behaviors, and how hard Dirk had been trying to get her to see a therapist, and wondered if everybody else previously affected by her shouldn’t be doing the same. 

The light in Dirk’s bedroom was still on at this hour, so Karkat got out of bed to speak with him.

“Dave hates driving.” He said from under the archway, pushing the door just a little bit further open to fit his entire face in the gap. From here, he saw Dirk bent over his workbench, pushed far into the room, working on what looked to have been multiple pieces of metal around wires and screws. 

At Karkat’s voice, Dirk leaned back onto his chair to fix the shades squarely onto Karkat’s face.

“Really?”

For once in his life, Dirk didn’t sound ironic. 

“Yeah. I think he’s only doing it to impress you.” 

Dirk’s brows creased in the center, followed by nothing but silence from his end, so Karkat elaborated. 

“He gets really anxious about it when you’re not there, like, worryingly anxious, and I know it’s probably nothing, but I’m still afraid that he’s gonna be pushed to try something eventually.” A pause. “You know what I mean.”

Dirk nodded his understanding.

“I get that, but I don’t think he’s going to do anything.” 

“Maybe not right now, and maybe not solely because of this, but what if things pile up in time? What if it gets too much again, and he can’t handle it all? I don’t think we should ignore that, dude. I think he needs help with this.” 

“Yeah, you’re right, but this is delicate, don’t you think? I haven’t touched this subject with him yet because I haven’t found the right time to do it, but, hey, maybe this is it. He’s been away from Denise for long enough.” 

His heart skipped.

“Yeah.” 

“You know, I finally found someone that I think will click with her as a therapist: another widow, just about her age, who’s been happily remarried for some years now. We’re going to visit her this week, and if this works, it’ll be a strong example for Dave to follow.” 

Karkat nodded, hoping that that would really work, and be their answer, but without putting too much faith into it, given Denise’s past record of steadfast resolution to keep away from professional help. After bidding Dirk goodnight, he went back to Dave’s bed very strongly hoping that Dirk’s efforts hadn’t been in vain this time around, even though the hollow in his chest told him to start prepping for a plan B already, just in case this happened to end like every other time before it. Karkat only didn’t expect for that visit to actually work, and have Denise coming back on her own, motivated to get better, and to finally heal. It was the closest thing to a miracle that he had ever come across, and prompted a nice, cozy lunch with both Striders, himself and Diego at a family restaurant near the park to celebrate while Denise and her therapist were in session. The unspoken reason why they didn’t do this with her was because of Dave, and her overbearing influence over him. She had  _ just _ started getting help, after all; it wasn’t as if her entire self would be changed overnight. Plus, Dave still didn’t feel comfortable being around her, and no one wanted a rerun of last time. 

Lunch was pleasant by the park, with a nice view of the blossoming flowers, the chirping birds, and the very beginning of spring. Karkat heard Diego’s voice for the first time, and the four of them had a really nice time together, speaking of Denise’s recovery, and how strong she was to seek help, better herself, and move on from the past. They were all very proud of her, wholeheartedly supportive, and simply happy, not only for her, but for themselves, as well. Diego meekly mentioned that he had also been going to therapy for a few months now, and how much it had helped him center himself and deal with his emotions. He said that he had kept that a secret until now because of Denise’s repulse against it, but now that she had come around, he felt safe to speak of it. Everyone at the table congratulated him, and that, Karkat noticed, put something on Dave’s face; an emotion, a thought, a beginning. Karkat saw just how pensive he had grown by the end of their lunch, and how quiet he was during the ride back home. Silently, hoped that their plan had worked. 

It did, but just not right away; it took Dave a couple of weeks to bring up the subject with Karkat one night, as they laid down next to each other in the darkness of Dave’s bedroom. 

“Do you think I should look for a therapist, too?” Dave asked him out of the blue, voice small and quiet, almost afraid to speak up. 

Karkat turned to look at him in the dark, fully aware that Dave’s human eyes couldn’t see the size of his very own right now. He wanted to shout a very enthusiastic  _ yes _ to that, but managed to keep himself in check, and go for something less obtrusive. 

“I think that, if a therapist will make you feel better, then, yeah, you should definitely do it.” 

Dave spent a heartbeat in silence, pondering this to himself.

“What will Bro think?” 

“Probably the same as I do.” 

More silence, a long stretch this time, as Dave turned to lay on his side and place an arm over Karkat, prompting him to inch closer. 

“Can you be there when I ask him tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Dave nodded.

“Thanks.” 

As Karkat already knew would be the case, the talk with Dirk went wonderfully. Dave was very visibly nervous to be speaking of this with his brother, but Karkat kept him company, and Dirk fully supported his decision, even going so far as to offer his assistance in finding a nice therapist for Dave. He had gone through dozens of clinics in the past, when looking for someone for their mother, so he had a recommendation or two that Dave might happen to like. Dave accepted his help, and the two went therapist hunting the next day, with Dave very calmly behind the wheel. Karkat couldn’t wait to see Dave this confident in his driving without his brother sitting right there. 

It took them a few tries, but Dave eventually found someone that clicked with him, and started seeing them on a regular basis. The session usually ended a minute or two before Karkat got dismissed from class, so Dave took the car on those days, and picked him up after the session, eager to tell him everything that he had just gone through with the therapist. Karkat noticed that they mostly talked about his childhood, both good times and bad times, so he knew that the sessions were going in the right direction, and would soon lead Dave to a breakthrough. He patiently awaited for that in the months that followed, until something else completely absorbed his attention, and set fire to everything that he had built so far. 

In that summer, the reservations for troll ownership opened. He noticed the abundant number of old, white humans that had started visiting campus while the human students were on vacation, and how strangely they behaved around the dean, whispering in their ear and ogling the trolls that walked the campus with a weird glint in their eyes. It made Karkat uncomfortable, to say the least, and very close to having a psychotic breakdown, to say the most. He hadn’t exactly forgotten about his situation this entire time, id est, how he’d get auctioned off for a housekeeping service with a large group of lowbloods at one point, but he didn’t think it’d happen so early. Sure, reservations only meant that he’d leave for someone’s house after graduation next year, not that he’d get shipped off right away, but still. Once there was a signed contract, that was it. There was no way to separate him from the rest, and that was absolutely terrifying. 

The first thing he did when Dave picked him up was talk about it. 

“Ownership reservations opened today. I don’t know this for sure, but I saw some people hounding the dean during recess, and it wasn’t because they want to enroll their kids at HU.” 

He couldn’t see Dave’s eyes from behind the shades, but judging by the way that Dave turned to look at him, he knew the reds that watched him had grown three sizes too big.

“Wait, so how does that work? They make a reservation to get you before anybody else?” 

“I think so, but I don’t really know how it goes afterward; I just know that, by July next year, we’re all getting sent somewhere.” 

Dave’s hands gripped onto the wheel. 

“How can we prevent that? It’s by getting you first, isn’t it?” 

His mouth shut, jaw setting as he nodded his response. For as inevitable as that was, he still couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. 

“Right. So. Do you want to? I mean, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Something inside of him very suddenly and very powerfully wanted to deck Dave in the face, along with the rest of the entire world, followed, at last, by himself, but he was also just this close to breaking into tears, and even closer to jumping into oncoming traffic, all wants and wishes jumbled up in a scalding ball of fire stored in the middle of his chest. He wasn’t sure which one of those to do first, compelled by the hatred that he felt at the entire human race, and decided to do none, sitting idly on Dave’s passenger seat instead. Somewhere in front of him, but not where his eyes were focused on, Dave nodded. 

“Okay, what do I have to do?” 

“You can’t do anything; you’re under legal age.” 

“Oh.” A very heartbroken pause that squeezed Karkat’s heart into a pulp. “I’ll speak with Bro, then. I’m sure he can do something about this.” 

Karkat very vaguely nodded his reply while turning to glance out the window on his right, keeping his mind at a blank state for the duration of the ride. 

In the apartment, Dirk sat on the couch with some unfinished project in hands, surely tweaking it in some way as the television ahead displayed some sort of ancient sword that Rick Harrison was trying to get for five hundred dollars or less, but not that Karkat paid any of that much attention; he only saw the pastel color of Dirk’s general frame surrounded by Rick Harrison’s voice while on his way to the bathroom, pushing onto the door just as he heard Dave approach his older brother with a greeting. Karkat quickly locked himself in there, stripped down and jumped into the shower, mostly for the noise and the solitude rather than to actually scrub himself clean. He only followed up on that to keep his mind busy, not thinking of the conversation that currently took place in the living room, and not listening to it, either, because he’d never be able to sit there while those two openly talked about ownership. It would’ve been too much. Instead, he made the water scalding hot and tried not to let his eyes leak with his weakness. If they did, he’d blame the temperature of his skin rather than the upsetting world around him.

One very long shower later, he leaned his head on the wood of the bathroom door to listen and try to deduce whether the conversation that passed was over or not. His ears perked for better hearing, but all that reached them were Rick Harrison’s annoying voice and the shitty sound effects of the show, so maybe the Striders were done, and it was safe to go out there. With a hand on the knob, he pulled the door open a little bit, just the enough to stick an ear out and listen again, more finely tuned now. Aside from the TV show, he could hear feet shuffling in the kitchen, pans being placed onto the stove and water boiling, so he took that that meant the brothers were done speaking about him, and had moved onto cooking dinner. Good; he left the bathroom wrapped up in a black towel (that the Striders had bought for him sometime ago) and crossed the narrow hallway into Dave’s bedroom to get dressed. 

That towel wasn’t the only thing that had been gifted to him in this meanwhile; he had also gotten some clothes last time that the three of them had gone to the mall, plus a pair of really sweet kicks for Christmas, even though he didn’t celebrate the holiday, and neither one of the Striders were particularly religious. With the money that he had accidentally saved by not using public transportation for the better portion of a year, Karkat bought both of the Striders a unified present: Kendrick Lamar’s Damn record album, unsure whether that gift would be a good idea or not, just on the off chance that one of the two brothers would like it, since they both loved rap and societal criticism. That had ended up being a big success and the soundtrack to the rest of their Christmas day. 

As he approached the kitchen, clad in his relatively new pajamas, Dirk paused his cooking to fix the shades on Karkat’s face. That was the kind of move that Dirk Strider only did when trying to get someone’s attention, which usually not only worked, but also intimidated the target into staying put, so Karkat halted his walking and stood still right behind the row of bar stools at the counter. Handing Dave a wooden spoon, Dirk tilted his head to the side, as if indicating exit. 

“Come here, Karkat, I want to speak with you.” 

At this point, Karkat had hung around the Striders for long enough to know that neither one of them were capable of laying a finger on him, so he wasn’t scared of that, only a little anxious to be talking about ownership right now, because of  _ course _ that was what Dirk wanted to speak with him about. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to actually, fully consider that as a viable option to escape an even worse form of reality, because he wasn’t really escaping anything, just playing the system and choosing the lesser of two evils, which was depressing, but the only thing he could do at this point. In actuality, he was privileged to be offered an option to choose, when the rest of 27-A couldn’t even do that. 

Taking a seat with Dirk on the couch, Karkat tried not to let the speed of his beating heart get the best of him; shake his hands or fill up his eyes. He breathed out, long and deep, and he was fine. It was fine. He kept his hands in fists above his knees and silently watched his own reflection on Dirk’s Kamina shades, ignoring just how abysmally sad he looked to be. 

“I was just speaking with Dave about the talk you had in the car, and I want to hear from you how we should deal with this. What do you want to do?” 

Karkat squinted. 

“There’s really nothing I  _ can _ do.” 

“Sure, I’ll technically be the one filling out the forms, but is that what you want? Do you want the bracelet?”

That word made his heart skip a beat and the bile in his stomach threaten to fly out through his mouth. He couldn’t give Dirk a verbal answer to that. 

“You know you’ll be free to go wherever you want with it.” Dirk continued. “My name will be on the forms, but it won’t mean anything to us. If you want the bracelet, I’ll get it for you, but don’t think you’ll be indebted to me because of that.” 

His throat was so tightly closed that he couldn’t say a word even if he wanted to. 

“I guess you could think of it as a green card.” 

The best he could do at the moment was shrug and desperately wish for this conversation to end. 

“So?” 

Silently, he nodded his consent, feeling his skin crawl. 

“Alright. I’ll start looking into eligibility after dinner.”

Dirk got up from the couch to resume his place in the kitchen, where Dave kept very close attention to the stove, while Karkat left the living room entirely and trickled into Dave’s bedroom right after, to worm his way under the covers and take a nap. He wasn’t really tired as much as he simply didn’t want to exist at the moment, and sleeping was the closest he could get to that, so he buried himself under Dave’s covers and pillows and tried not to think about the outside world for as long as he could. 

He woke up at six in the morning, not long before sunrise, and while the entire household slept for once. It was something of a regular occurance to get up in the middle of the night to see Dirk still awake, working away in his bedroom, or maybe tweaking a piece of electronic junk or other in the living room, but, at this ungodly hour, not even he was up, and Karkat was alone in the apartment for the first time, feeling like shit, of course, and without last night’s memories erased, much to his chagrin. He left the bed, which didn’t have Dave on it for some reason, and meandered over to the living room, where he found his matesprit asleep on the futon. Stopping just a moment to shower Dave’s sleeping form with a loving glance, Karkat knew that Dave had only slept here in fear of waking him up when trying to get in bed. He wanted to tell Dave that he appreciated that, and everything else that he had ever done for him, but only decided to do so once Dave was properly up. Right now, he walked past the futon and into the kitchen, hoping to magically pull something out of the fridge that would stop the growling in his stomach. 

What he found in there wasn’t magic, but it wasn’t too far from it, either. The Striders had left a container with his name on it guarding last night’s dinner that he had skipped, so he reheated that in the microwave and ate it at the counter while looking out the window, at the dark sky that was slowly filled with changing color. He hadn’t seen the sunrise in a long time, and, mesmerized by its beauty, Karkat remained at the counter long after finishing his makeshift breakfast. 

As the sky brightened right before his eyes, he remembered that there were bigger things than him in the world. 


	18. Jake English

As the red Honda pulled up to the curb to pick Karkat up from class, an old sight greeted him with Dirk behind the wheel and Dave riding shotgun. Karkat raised a brow, but said nothing before getting into the car and drawing the backseat door closed. 

“What’s with the family reunion?” He asked while buckling up. 

“We’re paying a visit to 27-A. Try not to sit on the yellow envelope that should be behind me.” 

Dirk didn’t need to spell that out for him to have his heart racing prematurely and his face feeling warm. Of course they had to do this as a group, and Dirk absolutely couldn’t speak with Ms. Paint by himself. Karkat had to be there, if anything, and Dave wouldn’t want to be left out of this one. It only made sense, but he didn’t have to feel comfortable about it, or even like the ride over to the building that he hadn’t seen for the better portion of a year. It was almost nostalgic to take the same route there that his bus used to, if nostalgia usually came accompanied by a deep nausea. He watched the town pass by his window and tried not to retch until they arrived. 

He never thought that, walking past 27-A’s gates, he would have missed any of it, yet here he was, suddenly reminded of all the nice naps that he had taken in his assigned recuperacoon and all the disgusting food that he had had at the cafeteria with his friends. He still saw them everyday in class, and would continue to do so for the next year, but once that was over, and they were all shipped somewhere horribly mysterious, he felt that he’d probably find himself missing some of them. It was no secret who was the one troll that he wouldn’t miss in the slightest, and that he really didn’t care where that guy happened to be sent to, hopefully to live the rest of his days away from his moirail, because it was about time that the government avenged Xefros Tritoh, but that didn’t matter. His nostalgia only lasted a second or two, and too soon he remembered the basement, the communal showers, and the penthouse, all of which made him glad to not be living here anymore, not to mention Dammek’s overall presence, but he was trying not to think about that guy for the rest of his life. 

With the envelope in hand, Dirk spoke to the guard at the station by the gates, and was redirected to Ms. Paint’s office, deep within the first floor, at the end of a hallway that no one ever wanted to walk down, because it usually meant big,  _ big _ trouble, but waddling behind a man as powerful as Dirk Strider, Karkat had no problem taking these steps. It almost felt like walking behind a shield with the key to the subway system in a yellow envelope rather than a death sentence. In a way, it was freeing, but only until they actually reached the door with the landlord’s name on it, and Karkat was rudely reminded that they were only here to get him an ownership bracelet, the opposite of freedom, or, maybe, relative freedom, depending on how he looked at it. He tried to think of it as a free pass into the subway and nothing more. 

Dirk gently knocked on the door to announce their presence, and was promptly answered with a call to allow himself in, which he took without thinking too much of it, but that sent a shiver down Karkat’s back, because this, the rumors said, was the very last thing that a lot of trolls had heard before disappearing forever. Walking in, the three of them were welcomed by the woman that no one was supposed to lay eyes on for a long and prosperous life, but that here Karkat looked at, defying the very legends that kept every troll perpetually out of this place. 

“Please, have a seat, and how may I help you today?” Ms. Paint spoke in a pleasant tone with a wide and friendly smile on her face that made Karkat immediately not trust her, simply because this was playing all too nicely instead of the horror show that everyone always spoke of in the hallways. 

On the very outside, Ms. Paint looked friendly; she was a big woman with a hijab wrapped around her head, delicately draping down and pooling at her shoulders, nicely complementing the dress that she wore underneath it, and whose sweet smile activated Karkat’s fight or flight response. The rumors said that she was vile and horrid and decapitated trolls with the butcher knife that she kept in a drawer, but he had yet to see that happen. He supposed that he was here to put that to the test. 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Paint. I contacted you not long ago about the eligibility papers.” 

“Ah, yes, Mr. Strider. Did you bring all the necessary documents to apply?” 

“Yes.” Dirk replied while handing the yellow envelope over to Ms. Paint. “It’s all in there.” 

Ms. Paint opened the envelope and removed the contents from inside, carefully going over them with a serious expression on her face that was most likely the result of her focus, sometimes broken by a raise of the brows or a slight scowl, both of which made Karkat very nervous for no real reason. The three of them watched her in silence as she scrutinized the documents before her, then sorted them out in two piles, one of which she placed back inside the envelope once she was done. From the looks of it, she handed back the originals, keeping only the copies. 

“Alright, it’s all here. I’m going to hand these to the bureau, and they should give me an answer in a week or two. Is this the one that you want?” Ms. Paint asked the last part while pointing at Karkat, speaking so harmlessly that he almost forgot to feel offended by that. 

“Yes.” Dirk replied.

“You didn’t have to bring him in today. In fact,  _ I’m  _ supposed to take you to him, if all goes accordingly, but don’t worry about it. It’s no problem.” 

Karkat felt his own blood freeze right in his veins at that, petrifying him in place, and gluing his ass to that chair, because he wasn’t supposed to be here, and they had already fucked this up. Ms. Paint would never call Dirk out on that very harshly, or even reprimand him for it, of course, so they would be fine, but Karkat still had a feeling that he wasn’t. One seat to his left, Dirk shrugged dismissively, and, right before him, Ms. Paint got up from her desk with a warm smile on her face to see them all out. 

“I’ll call you with the results, Mr. Strider.”

“Thank you.” 

Karkat didn’t think that he’d actually get out of this room alive. 

Waiting two weeks for that call was physically painful. Karkat dreamed about it nearly every night, unable to concentrate on anything else in his waking life without a pounding reminder that the results that awaited him could be his relative freedom or his absolute demise. He barely ate, paid no attention to class, and had his mind floating up in space while people talked to him, sometimes buried under the bureau’s building, sometimes so completely scrambled that nothing reached his brain aside from a piercing shriek. He knew that all of this reflected right on his face, because Dave very clearly saw it, and took the time of day to reassure him that everything would be alright, because of  _ course _ Bro was eligible for this, why wouldn’t he be? He had a house and owned a business; what else did the government need from a white man? Absolutely nothing. Dave took Karkat’s hand as they laid in bed, and brought it close to his chest, where Karkat could feel his humanoid heart beating softly. 

“It’ll be fine. You can stay with us.” 

He thought about those words for the rest of the night. 

In exactly two weeks and three days, Dirk received the long awaited call from Ms. Paint that both Dave and Karkat ordered him to answer on speaker to be able to listen to as well, and which he did so without objections. As he swiped right on his phone screen, Karkat felt his heart beating up in his throat and reverberating through his ribs loud enough to nearly deafen him and cloud his brain with too much noise to be able to focus onto the call, but the moment that Ms. Paint’s voice bled through the receiver, his entire body stilled and his mind honed into her sweet timbre. 

“Good evening, Ms. Paint.” 

“Hello, Mr. Strider! I’m calling to let you know that the bureau got back to me, and your eligibility is perfectly confirmed. I would like to make an appointment with you for the first interview, where the legality of the matter will be discussed. No need to bring a lawyer just yet, since nothing will be decided right away, and I advise you come alone this time, for a speedier and more concise meeting. Is Wednesday morning a good day for you?” 

Karkat barely listened to anything that she said past the second sentence, having his entire brain blackout for a moment there, breathless and otherworldly. The only thing that grounded him again was Dave’s hand squeezing his own, pulling him back into his own body, into the mind that sizzled with static and couldn’t decode anything else that came from Dirk’s phone or mouth. Karkat watched him answer Ms. Paint, and her answer him right back, and a brief conversation take place before they bid each other farewell and hung up. 

He wouldn’t end up being taken away to live with strangers, after all. 

Dirk met with Ms. Paint by himself about three to four times before the end of the month, always seeming very busy on the meanwhile between appointments, coming and going from a place in town or another for proof of this and that and other receipts, more often than not with Roxy on the line, his personal lawyer since graduation. Her degree had been pure luck on his side, but of the double-edged kind, where she absolutely refused to take the case until Dirk sat down with her and explained, in excruciating detail, the situation that Karkat currently found himself in, and the conversation that they had had about this sometime ago. Roxy was very adamant against the whole ordeal, much less being a part of it herself, to go against everything that she stood for and believed in, until Karkat himself swiped Dirk’s phone from his hand and personally asked Roxy for help, because he wanted to stay, and couldn’t possibly see a better future than being here with all of them. That was the only thing that made her immediately change her mind. 

About a month and a half after the beginning of this whole thing, Dave told him through text that a few officials had come to the apartment while Karkat was (luckily) still in class, and checked the whole place out alongside both Dirk and Roxy before heading for the factory, presumably to check that out, as well. They didn’t know that Karkat practically already lived in the apartment already, and that, apparently, wasn’t good for their case. Karkat wasn’t supposed to have a bias, either for or against the humans that intended to acquire him, and the fact that he not only had a bias, but would give his life for either one of the Striders didn’t help. Ideally, Karkat wasn’t even supposed to know that anyone intended to get a reservation on him, so Dave told him to keep all of that a secret, and pretend to have no connections to any human on Earth. Karkat let him know that he could absolutely do that. 

Apparently, the whole reservation process wasn’t supposed to take this long, and was intended to be a fairly simple procedure, but some oddities regarding Dirk and his interest as a buyer tipped the bureau of troll matters off and had them investigating the guy pretty thoroughly before committing to his decision. They searched his place, his factory, his background, and most of his connections, which took a much longer time for a decision to be reached than it should have, hounding Dirk for near bi-weekly meetings until all of their suspicions had been put to a rest. It took time, effort and patience, but the bureau managed to work in their favor, and about one meeting away from the verdict, the worst possible abomination crash-landed back into Dirk’s life and halted the very results of the investigation, practically resetting the entire thing, and making Karkat’s heart race faster than his impending doom. He was notified of it while in class.

 

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]\--

TG: hey dude guess what just happened 

TG: remember that guy that used to live here with bro almost ten years ago

TG: hes here right now visiting from fucking england 

CG: HEY, DAVE, HOW ARE YOU? AND WHY SHOULD I GIVE A FUCK?

TG: cause he has a funny accent and bro looks like he wants this guy dead 

TG: if i learned a thing or two from the prosecutors that keep coming to our place then thats probably good news 

TG: i talked to him for a while it was like interviewing the harry potter cast 

TG: they also sound like they hate each other so im ready to bounce when the first fist connects

TG: wait 

CG: WHAT?

TG: the guys wife is dead and bro sounds like a jackass

TG: brb

CG: DAVE?

CG: IS THIS GUY IMPORTANT AT ALL? BECAUSE RIGHT NOW I CAN’T FIND IT IN MYSELF TO GIVE ONE SHIT ABOUT HIM, DUDE. MY BAD BUT AT THIS POINT ALL I CARE ABOUT IS THE FINAL VERDICT AND THE AGENTS THAT KEEP CRASHING YOUR PLACE UNANNOUNCED SO THIS ENGLISH BRO CAN HONESTLY CHOKE. 

TG: hes actually pretty alright but i get where youre coming from and share the sentiment 

TG: hes gone now and bros taking a shower 

TG: you know what that means

CG: I LITERALLY DON’T AND AM AFRAID TO ASK. 

TG: bros super rattled and if the shower takes twenty minutes longer than usual then hes super omega rattled but if he leaves too soon then hes just pissed 

TG: ill be on the lookout 

TG: in other news i dont think were having tamales tonight

CG: THAT’S GREAT. I FUCKING HATE TAMALES.

TG: no you hate texas toast

TG: tamales have the corn husk thing 

CG: DAVE, I THINK I CAN TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A PIECE OF BREAD AND A CORN HUSK. 

TG: do you know what a corn husk is

CG: YES! I’VE HAD TAMALES BEFORE ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

TG: ok then were having texas toast since you clearly love it 

CG: GREAT. 

 

Of course he got those two confused, and refused to touch another Texas toast for as long as he lived, but, to his luck, there were some grubsteak leftovers in the fridge from the other night that made a nice alternative to Dave’s horrendous palate, even though none of that was the focus of tonight, or any of the last few days since the beginning of the investigation. He wanted to ask Dirk about that, to know whether the bureau had gotten back to him yet, and if he hadn’t gotten distracted by the unpleasant visit earlier today, but Dirk was buried deep within his bedroom when both Dave and Karkat arrived from campus, which wasn’t a problem, and prompted Karkat to speak with him later. Unfortunately, though, Dirk only left his room to exit the apartment entirely, not giving Karkat a chance to talk, but it was fine; Karkat wasn’t worried sick about the verdict or anything. Interestingly enough, Dirk wore a hoodie for the first time in his life and seemed more distressed than ever, pointing to the fact that Dave might’ve been right about the showers, and the long ones sure did allude to something bad. Before walking out, Dirk stopped a moment to tell them that he’d be back later, and, for the first time ever, didn’t give them an ETA. 

Karkat thought that that would’ve driven Dave insane, but, surprisingly, it didn’t. Dave nodded his understanding and didn’t glance over his shoulder at the front door to see his brother leave, which meant that the therapy sessions had truly been helping him deal with his abandonment issues, and Karkat was glad to see that. On the other hand, though, Dirk’s erratic behavior was concerning. He was always perfectly composed and predicting the near future with mathematical precision, so seeing him visibly affected by someone’s brief visit compelled Karkat to flag the visitor as nothing but trouble. If Dirk Strider had a reason to panic, he didn’t see why he shouldn’t do the same. 

Dirk came home a handful of hours later, crossed the living room without saying a word, and retreated back to his room wearing a crease in between his brows that showed his deep pensiveness. That confirmed the supposition that whoever had stopped by earlier today was bad news, and Karkat didn’t like them at all, or their terrible timing. Showing up here out of the blue just a few days from the bureau’s verdict must’ve been a premonition of some sort. Karkat didn’t particularly believe in superstition, but he’d be willing to believe in this one. 

He hoped that the mystery guest would make himself scarce before long, but, given his luck, that would never be the case, and, in fact, it wasn’t. The guy stuck around for another day, which Karkat only came to know when Dirk stopped by the campus on his bike, a strange and almost ominous sight that brought back some of last year’s memories of watching this happen right in front of 27-A while in frenzied panic. Karkat had been accompanying Dave to the bus stop during lunch break when Dirk arrived, allowing the both of them an advantageous view of Dirk’s careless and sloppy parking to the curb less than a feet away from them. Saying that he seemed rushed was an understatement. 

In petrified silence, they both watched Dirk remove the helmet from his head to speak. 

“One of you, hop on. We’re having lunch together.” 

“We just ate.” He explained. 

“Then come have some juice, Karkat. Get on.” 

“No, dude, that sounds sketchy as fuck. Why don’t you go by yourself?” 

“Is Jake gonna be there?” Dave cut in.

“Yes, and I need a buffer, so get on.” 

“Why? I thought you’ve known him forever.” Karkat asked.

“I  _ have,  _ but that’s not the point.” 

“Did you hook up?” 

Dave’s question made Dirk square the shades on his face and hesitate for a millisecond. 

“No.”

“Oh my God, you totally did.”

“You  _ totally _ did!” 

“One of you, just  _ get on.  _ We’re late.” 

“I’ll go.” Dave offered, taking the extra helmet from the back while having a seat behind his brother. “I’ll keep you informed.” He spoke the last bit with a slight nod in Karkat’s direction. 

“Thanks; let me know if they make out in the bathroom or finally kill each other.”

His comment had Dirk’s face in a scowl before getting covered by the helmet. Dave just laughed. 

Halfway through the first afternoon period, his phone vibrated with the news. 

 

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]\--

TG: were home

TG: i didnt expect that to go so… well? 

TG: it was kind of adorable cause they ordered for each other and talked about roxy the whole time 

TG: guess jake has some bad history with her too but is that really surprising i mean hes british and bro hates him so to be honest she doesnt need another reason to side with her bff in this one

CG: WOW. THEY REALLY ARE LOVERS AFTER ALL.

TG: no i think that was in the past and whatever it was its totally dead now 

TG: except for like this spark when they ordered and this glint in jakes eye and how they just click like they obviously know each other very well and it shows in the way that they talk and how jake literally couldnt stop staring at bro the entire time and

TG: oh my god theyre still in love

CG: NO SHIT.

TG: so thats why bro invited him to roxys bday tonight

CG: WHAT? 

CG: DID HE ACTUALLY?

TG: yeah

CG: OH MY GOD. 

CG: DAVE, THE MOMENT HE WALKS IN WE’RE GOING TO WITNESS ROXY DRAW A RIFLE FROM A CONCEALED HOLSTER UNDER HER DRESS AND KILL A MAN IN HER VERY OWN LIVING ROOM. 

CG: THE POLICE WILL INTERROGATE US FOR MONTHS ON END AND I’LL PROBABLY GET ARRESTED FOR IT. 

TG: no i dont think shed shoot him thatd be too easy i think shed roundhouse kick him in the throat instead cause that hurts more

TG: accounting the stilettos 

CG: WHY IS HE HERE?

TG: hes visiting bro unannounced thats why bros pissed 

TG: also he wants to meet you

CG: WHAT??? NO WAY. 

CG: NO FUCKING WAY.

CG: TELL HIM I’D RATHER SLIT MY OWN THROAT AND WATCH MYSELF FALL FROM THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR THAN MEET HIS SLIMEY ASS. 

TG: how would you watch yourself do that are you going to get a gopro drone fly around so you can watch the screen on the remote 

CG: NO, IT’S CALLED DISSOCIATION. 

CG: LOOK, IF YOUR BROTHER’S GOING TO REUNITE WITH HIS OLD FLAME, I REALLY DON’T GIVE A SHIT, AS LONG AS THIS GUY DOESN’T TURN OUT TO BE TROUBLE. 

CG: WHICH I’M PRETTY SURE HE ALREADY IS. 

TG: no hes alright

TG: i mean hes pompous and excessive and talks in too many words but thats because hes a charles dickens character 

TG: you dont need to share soliloquies with him just say hello maybe shake his hand and ollie outie

TG: theres only one thing 

CG: OH GOD.

TG: no its not so bad

TG: its just that apparently he comes from a prestigious background of influential douchebags that make generous “donations” to companies and stuff like hes the stockholder with the most shares in more than just a few big names so maybe dont piss him off? i dunno

TG: he doesnt seem conceited or anything though i dont think hed activate his defense lawyer card so easily

CG: SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT HIS LIFE INSURANCE IS VERY VALUABLE AND THAT WE SHOULD *DEFINITELY* NOT KILL HIM. 

CG: RIGHT?

CG: UM.

CG: NOT TO BE THAT ASSHOLE HERE, BUT, HEY, MAYBE WE SHOULD KILL HIM.

CG: WAIT, DON’T SAY ANYTHING! JUST CONSIDER IT FOR A SECOND. 

TG: karkat no

CG: DAMMIT.

TG: i mean youre right but dont you think hes worth more if hes alive

TG: i cant believe im saying this but the gradual income that he collects in a year must amount to much more than what his life insurance can offer

TG: were not geniuses and someone probably already hired a hitman to take him out but then realized that his net worth only means something if hes alive

CG: YOU’RE TAKING THIS TOO SERIOUSLY. 

CG: I WASN’T GOING TO ACTUALLY KILL HIM, JUST TRY TO GET HIM TO RUN ME OVER WITH HIS CAR.

CG: WAIT, I DON’T HAVE HEALTH INSURANCE.

CG: GET HIM TO RUN *YOU* OVER WITH HIS CAR.

TG: good luck with that

TG: by the way the bureau just called bro 

CG: HOLY SHIT.

TG: they said hes eligible 

CG: FUCK 

CG: YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

If he could’ve ran out of the classroom to somersault in the patio, he would have, but, as it was, he had to wait until Dave picked him up after class to wrap both arms around his shoulders and hug the guy with his affection. He never thought that he’d feel so happy for achieving virtually nothing.

By the time that the birthday party started, most of the excitement from earlier had dissipated, but some of its lingering effects still put a giddy air about him that made him more susceptible to smile at strangers, even though he didn’t actually do that all night. His little victory with the bureau had captivated him so much that he had almost forgotten that some multimillionaire here wanted to meet with him, and ruin the rest of his evening by undoubtedly reminding him that his life wasn’t even worth a quarter. He really didn’t care for this guy, or the history that he had with Dirk, but, even though the eligibility had gone through, Karkat still didn’t have any rights, and couldn’t afford to decline this awkward meeting. In the end, he let Dave take him to the personified nightmare that was this Jake guy, who was already ridiculously drunk two hours into the evening, seeming to share that trait with Dirk, and making Karkat wonder in fear just how much else they had in common. 

Jake wasn’t all bad, but he wasn’t super great, either. Sure, he was stinking drunk when Karkat met him and could barely say a fully comprehensible sentence without stopping to sip on his drink, but that didn’t make him inoffensive, or any less unlikeable. The way that he spoke irked Karkat to such a considerable degree that he sincerely wondered if this guy wasn’t just choosing his words to very specifically piss Karkat off as some sort of personal attack against him, coupled with his disgustingly thick English accent that made everything he said sound a lot weirder and more complicated than originally intended, but then he saw how the man could barely stand on both feet, was only barely listening to a word that anyone said, and had Dirk’s drunk ass hanging from the crook of his arm, and realized that, no, Jake wasn’t an evil mastermind, however much he acted like one. This drunk millionaire was simply a sight to see, and one that Karkat wouldn’t mind never seeing again. He got to say maybe a handful of words to the guy before he got all offended for some obscure reason and squared off his big shoulders with a deep scowl on his face.  _ That _ was when Karkat decided that he didn’t like Jake, which was bad timing, because Jake was a hair away from punching him in the face and breaking his jaw with a single fist. Sure, the guy wasn’t as muscular as Dirk was, but he wasn’t all that far off, either, and even happened to be taller. Yeah, Jake was taller than the tallest man that Karkat had met so far. If he ever came across this guy in the streets at night, he’d haul ass in an instant, no questions asked. That was nothing if not preservation tactics. 

Despite the squared off shoulders and the inclination to fight, Jake didn’t get the chance to throw the first punch before the Strider brothers intervened; Dirk physically pushed him away while Dave took Karkat’s hand and walked off with him, far into the ballroom, in the very opposite direction of those two. Clearly, Jake didn’t like Karkat, and Karkat didn’t like him, either; was that really surprising? Karkat had already hated every rich man on the face of the Earth before meeting this guy, making tonight just strengthen that feeling without accomplishing anything new. It was nothing that he wasn’t already expecting to come out of this disastrous meet and greet, anyway. 

It was also no surprise that Dirk’s excessive drinking during the event had gotten him passed out drunk somewhere in the upper floor of his moirail’s home at one point or another, but that wasn’t a problem this time around, because, accounting for it, Dave had taken the Honda, meaning that the two of them didn’t depend on Dirk’s ride for once, and could leave whenever they wanted to. They stuck around for a little while only, having juice and talking about the eligibility for most of the night, speaking with Jake when he showed, and later with Roxy, who apparently hadn’t killed Jake with a bullet wound to the forehead, but had had a stern conversation with him before his imminent inebriation, and after they both wished Roxy a nice birthday, they left in the Honda. It was a school night, after all; they had to be up at seven the next morning. 

Arriving in class the next day, the first thing that Karkat noticed was Sollux’s absence, which left him alone with the toxic love birds whose quadrants were more jumbled up and overlapping than a Picasso painting, but whatever; he took the seat next to Dammek and tried not to mind that too much. He tried to hone his brain to focus on the lecture, or maybe fiddle with his phone, or maybe look out the window, only just not pay attention to how close he was to Dammek, an inch from touching his upper arm, and having his body physically try to scoot away from the guy. It was fine, though, he didn’t mind sitting next to Dammek; it wasn’t as if he’d get some contagious disease or anything. It was cool. He didn’t hate Sollux for skipping at all. Clearing out his throat, he turned to whisper a question to the guy who he literally never wished to see again for as long as he lived. 

“Hey, where’s Sollux?” 

“Got transferred.” 

“What?” Not him, too. That was so weird. “That doesn’t make any sense. How’s everyone getting transferred?” 

At that, Dammek simply shrugged, and, on the seat next to him, Xefros’ big, worrisome reds watched their conversation pass in what looked to have been a state of shocked fear, almost as if he was being personally interrogated by the police about it. He clearly knew something, and there was far more to this than met the eye. 

“Xefros, what’s going on?” 

He had barely managed to finish the question when Dammek turned to face him, blocking the view from his moirail entirely with his wide shoulders. 

“I told you he got transferred, now stop asking questions.” 

Dammek sounded stern enough to make him not want to get involved in whatever sketchy shit these two were planning, and, instead of going with his instinct to fight and make a huge scene, Karkat simply nodded his resignation at that, keeping quiet about it, which pleased Dammek, and placed him back onto his seat. In concealment, Karkat pulled out his phone and tapped onto his friend’s contact. 

 

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]\--

CG: SOLLUX, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? DAMMEK IS BEING REALLY WEIRD ABOUT THAT AND I DON’T BELIEVE HIM FOR A SECOND. 

CG: NOBODY ACTUALLY GOT TRANSFERRED FROM HERE AND I WANT TO KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON. 

TA: hey, KK.

TA: i’m n0t trying t0 be saucy right n0w but y0u’re the 0ne wh0 ch0se t0 drift away fr0m us in the first place and g0 live the fairy tale life that y0u’ve always wanted t0 live instead 0f taking a stance f0r 0ur people. 

TA: d0n’t get me wr0ng, that’s fine, and i d0n’t care, it just means we’re inv0lved in s0mething that y0u can’t be a part 0f. 

TA: s0rry.

CG: WHY ARE YOU TALKING LIKE ARADIA NOW? 

CG: TELL ME YOU’RE NOT INVOLVED IN SOMETHING DANGEROUS THAT’LL END UP KILLING YOU IN THE END BECAUSE I DON’T THINK I CAN HANDLE THAT. 

CG: I UNDERSTAND IF YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON BECAUSE I’M A TRAITOR, I GET THAT, BUT JUST TELL ME YOU’RE OKAY.

TA: i’m fine.

TA:  y0u kn0w, i wish y0u w0uld’ve stayed with us but i kn0w that’s imp0ssible. 

TA: i just h0pe i d0n’t hear y0u when the time c0mes. 

CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

TA: n0thing.

TA: are y0u enj0ying the path y0u ch0se t0 take?

CG: I FEEL LIKE SHIT FOR SAYING THIS BUT YES.

CG: IT’S BEEN GOOD. 

CG: OF COURSE IT’S NOT PERFECT AND SOME STUFF IS REALLY FUCKED UP BUT I STILL CAN’T FIND MYSELF REGRETTING IT. 

CG: I KNOW I WOULD’VE DONE EVERYTHING ALL OVER AGAIN GIVEN THE CHANCE. 

CG: SO THERE. 

CG: TRAITOR OF THE YEAR AWARD. 

CG: I’M SORRY.

TA: d0n’t w0rry, it’s fine. that’s what i expected 0ut 0f y0u anyway. 

TA: despite everything, i’m happy f0r y0u. 

TA: stay safe, KK. 

CG: WAIT SOLLUX.

CG: DON’T GO YET. 

TA: why n0t?

CG: BECAUSE THIS FEELS LIKE GOODBYE FOR SOME REASON. 

CG: TELL ME I’LL SEE YOU AGAIN.

TA: y0u already kn0w that’s n0t g0ing t0 happen.

CG: DAMMIT. DID I MISS MY CHANCE? 

TA: t0 d0 what?

CG: I DON’T KNOW.

TA: KK, listen. y0u knew exactly what y0u were d0ing with dave and where that w0uld lead. y0u knew it w0uld either be us 0r him and y0u ch0se him, which is fine. y0u’re happy with that ch0ice and i’m happy f0r y0u t00, s0 enj0y it while y0u can, and pr0mise me y0u’ll take care 0f y0urself. 

TA: if there c0mes a day when y0u have t0 ch00se between him and y0u, ch00se y0urself f0r 0nce. 

TA: g00dbye, KK.

CG: PLEASE DON’T GO.

TA: i’ll still be here if y0u want t0 text me. 

TA: it’s n0t like i’m dead. 

CG: SO WHY DOES IT FEEL THAT WAY?

TA: hehe.

TA: that’s a secret. 

\--twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]\--


	19. A good ending, despite everything

“If there comes a day when you have to choose between him and you, choose yourself for once.” Huh. What? What made Sollux go all prophetical all of a sudden, speaking with Aradia’s new typing quirk and saying the same mystical bullshit that she always did? This was so strange. They were clearly in on something that Karkat didn’t know about, and couldn’t know about, or even be a part of now, but that he felt he probably wouldn’t want to be associated with anyway, not given his friends’ past ideas, and how terribly they always went. Dammek’s cult, for example. That was fucking stupid and had almost gotten them in trouble at that pub. Did it still exist? Probably, and this whole typing quirk thing must’ve come from it, if Karkat had to guess. If so, then it made sense that Xefros looked to know something about it. Karkat could ask him, but Dammek would end up knowing about that at one point or another, he was sure, so staying quiet might’ve been the safest choice to make here, considering that he didn’t really want his insides spilling out of him. 

Walking to the bus stop, he decided to let that be. It sounded like trouble, anyway. 

At the apartment, he hoped to catch Dirk at his leisure to ask him about the next phase of this whole bracelet-acquiring process, to know what would happen next, and if he could help with anything, but, when they arrived, Dirk wasn’t home yet. Dave said that he had called Roxy earlier, and she had confirmed Dirk’s presence at her home, still passed out in her bedroom, but that had been around noon, not nearly at sunset. It was very unlike Dirk to stay offline for so long, which made Karkat instinctively blame Jake with no proof other than emotional certainty. Jake was the odd one out that took everything out of order, so of course he was to blame. It only made sense, and Karkat hated him for it. 

Just as the two of them started defrosting some chicken for dinner, Dirk showed up, looking to be in a hurry. He apparently hadn’t had a moment’s rest ever since Jake crash-landed here, but the blame for that spoke for itself. Karkat watched Dirk dash into his room and only reappear about twenty minutes later, with a bag slung over a shoulder and some documents in hand. Was that his passport? Karkat could barely breathe at the sight of it. Where was he going, and, more importantly, would he be coming back soon? All that Karkat could think about was how the bureau would take Dirk’s sudden trip if they learned of it. 

“I’m spending the weekend out, but I’ll be back on Monday.” Dirk explained. 

Evidently, Dave had also noticed the passport that got shoved down Dirk’s pocket. 

“Are you going out with Jake?” 

“Yes, but if anything happens, call me.” 

With that, he was off, leaving both Karkat and Dave alone to glance at each other. 

“That’s weird.”

“Super sketchy.” 

“Do you think the bureau will give a shit about it?” 

“Nah, I don’t think so. I just hope that, if we call him, he fucking answers.” 

“Try calling him right now.” 

Dave’s shades moved to stare at him. 

“What?”

Without saying anything to that, Dave took out his phone and dialed his brother’s number, putting it on speaker for Karkat to listen. Unsurprisingly, Dirk picked up at the very first ring.

“Yeah? I’m still in the elevator.”

“Try not to pass out for a whole day and answer your phone.” 

“You sound like Dana.” 

“Have fun in Europe.” 

Dave hung up. 

That weekend was a strange one. The two of them had never spent so long without Dirk in the premises, much less completely alone in this apartment, which wouldn’t have happened without Dave’s therapy sessions, Karkat was sure of it. Just a year ago, in this very situation, Dave would’ve immediately gone into panic mode, and had a subsequent meltdown, but, this far into improving himself, he didn’t let that happen. In fact, he behaved very normally for someone who used to not be able to sleep at night with Dirk’s bedroom door closed. That had changed now, of course, and Dave didn’t make a big deal of it anymore, even though Dirk still didn’t close the door, probably out of consideration for his little brother. Dirk had been keeping tabs on Dave’s improvement, too, and obviously spent no time in taking advantage of the breathing room that it gave him, which would’ve been fine if it hadn’t been for Jake English. This whole thing felt like Jake’s idea; the suddenness of it, the lack of forethought, the carelessness in regards to the money and time spent with this little escapade. It made no sense, and went completely against the very fundamentals that composed Dirk Strider, so it couldn’t have been his idea. Not in a million years. He must’ve gone along with it because it was Jake, the guy who apparently had a lot more influence over him than previously thought. Was Dirk that much head over heels for him, to the point of foregoing everything that was happening in his life only to cater to this guy? That pissed Karkat off. It seemed to be the same kind of sick devotion that Xefros had for his moirail, and Karkat  _ really _ didn’t want a rerun of that shit-show. 

If Jake happened to be another abusive motherfucker, Karkat was seriously going to lose it, and maybe kill a man. 

For the entire duration of the weekend, all he could think about was the bureau, and if they had contacted Dirk while he was abroad, and if they knew, and if that changed anything. If it made Karkat’s life harder. If it made the whole process slower, because Dirk still had to get in line for the bracelet, and anyone could beat him to it right now. Karkat wanted to call him every two hours to ask about the bureau, but he didn’t let his paranoia get the best of him; he already owed the guy his entire life, and didn’t want to bother him on top of everything. He knew that Dirk wouldn’t, but if he ever changed his mind and went back on this, it was over. 

On Monday, all he could think about in class was Dirk’s arrival. During lunch, he wondered if Dirk was home yet, and as class wrapped up, he checked his phone to learn what time it was in the United Kingdom right now, if any flights were leaving it, what time those planes should land here. He came across some steep prices for a single seat in the economic class and wondered just how much Dirk had in his savings to up and visit England for a weekend, without planning anything beforehand. Alternatively, Jake might’ve paid for him, with the ridiculous amount of money that he apparently made every hour. Karkat honestly didn’t care for that guy, but he guessed he could understand the appeal of dating someone with that much money in their bank account. Dirk was far from being an idiot. 

As Dave rolled up to the curb to pick him up, Karkat jumped into the car and promptly skipped the pleasantries to get asking the questions that had been stuck halfway up his throat all day. At this point, his pride was too ruined to help him save face. 

“Is he home yet? Is everything good? He’s coming back today, isn’t he?” 

“No, yes, and yes. He actually called me not too long ago, said he’ll be home in half an hour, and that Jake’s kids are visiting. I didn’t even know that he had children.” 

“What? How many, and how old? I don’t want to associate with them.” 

“I don’t know, but they can’t be too old if Bro isn’t even thirty. Jake’s probably the same age, so I’d say little kids.” 

“Oh, that’s not so bad. If they were teenagers, I would’ve thrown down.” 

“I know. Why are you so worried?” 

“Take a wild guess, Dave.” 

“I’m sure the bureau doesn’t care about any of that stuff, dude. It’s cool.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I hope you’re right.” 

The apartment was still completely deserted by the time they arrived from campus, but it didn’t remain that way for long. About five minutes later, and in the middle of Karkat’s last nervous breakdown, Dirk walked in with bags hanging off of every limb in his body, a child in hands, Jake towing closely behind, and another small kid holding onto Jake’s fingers. It was an absolutely nightmarish sight to see that made Karkat instantly nauseous. He knew that Dirk was a good person with a very big heart, but this place wasn’t a foster care or a homeless shelter and in  _ no way _ would ever be able to fit another three people comfortably in for a few days. It was madness to even consider that. 

As Karkat stared in horror at the scene before him, Jake’s green eyes met with his own for a quick second before moving away to look at Dirk instead, making something slowly begin to stir in Karkat’s sponge for a brain, because that had been strangely squeamish out of Jake, someone supposedly so big and powerful who didn’t have a single reason to fear Karkat in the slightest. In fact, Jake was the exact kind of person that could, and  _ would _ obliterate Karkat’s existence with a command just because he didn’t particularly want to look at Karkat’s kind at the moment, so seeing him act as the very opposite of the squared shoulders and puffed out chest version of himself that had greeted Karkat last night was interesting. It made Karkat start to wonder if he hadn’t been wrong about Jake this entire time. 

As the two tall humans carried a sleeping child and some bags further into the apartment, the waking child came over to both Dave and Karkat for a polite greeting and introduction. They quickly learned that her name was Joey Claire, her accent was a perfect copy of her father’s, and her face very much resembled his with a few major differences, starting with the big eyes and the squared grin. She didn’t have her father’s buck teeth, and Karkat was sure that she’d thank the Heavens for that for as long as she lived. Her skin tone was decently lighter than her father’s, and her hair had a lot more curls in it, cut short to bounce at the top of her head as she moved with her enthusiasm. She was a cute little kid, if Karkat could even say that, taking that he didn’t actually know other children besides Rose and the ones that he had seen on TV, but it didn’t matter, because he kept that to himself. Joey Claire was a very talkative person, which he supposed came from a gene that ran in the family, and kept both him and Dave surprisingly entertained for most of the evening. She spoke with them for a while, sitting on the futon with her feet dangling off the edge, telling them that she had never visited Houston, Texas before, and how different it was from the manor already. 

Karkat wasn’t sure if the manor that she mentioned was some sort of town in England, or maybe a county, but he decided against asking about that and, instead, taking everything that Joey said at face value. So there was a manor that she happened to live in that was very big, dark and cold, and that she really didn’t appreciate as much as she already liked Houston, Texas. She kept calling it “Houston, Texas” every time, so Karkat supposed that she thought of it as a single word rather than two; a city and a state, but, for a kid her size, that was pretty good still. She knew the name of this place, which was what mattered. She told them, very enthusiastically, that she had come here in a plane, to which her expression of absolute shock had both of them instinctively mirroring it onto their own faces, and prompting her to continue talking of her exciting trip. Dirk Strider had helped her take the subway, bought her a donut in a shop outside, and walked with her and Pa to this building. She loved the colors of this place, was very happy to be here, and asked them if they would “very much adore” to watch her newest ballet. Karkat couldn’t make heads nor tails of this girl and simply nodded his consent to that, watching as she happily hopped from the couch, removed her shoes, and started twirling around like a ballerina. Admittedly, it was kind of adorable, and he didn’t mind watching the ballet for a whole ten minutes. 

“You’re very good.” He reassured her once she was done and bowing. 

“Yeah, I loved the plié.” Dave commented.

“Thank you dearly! I practice everyday. See this?” Joey spoke while pointing down at her own feet, placed together at the heels and pointing away from one another in a wide V. “Took me but a year to master.” 

“Impressive.”

“Sick.” 

Joey bowed again. 

Dinner was spent in five, put together mostly by the Strider brothers with some of Karkat’s assistance here and there whenever Dirk asked him for something, all the while Joey happily sat at the counter and told them random stories that may or may not have happened to her in the past, paused at times for remarks of how good dinner smelled. She tried to get Dirk to tell her what it was that they were having, but Dirk was adamant in making it a surprise, which delighted Joey and put a grin on her little face. The sleeping baby had been moved to the futon that Dirk very obviously kept close tabs on in between tasks on the stovetop, and that made Karkat wonder why the supervision couldn’t have been Jake’s responsibility instead, since he literally wasn’t doing anything, simply sitting at the counter next to Joey with a deeply brooding look on his face. Something must’ve been bothering him, but Karkat didn’t care to know what it was, and took it upon himself to check on the baby as well, solely because Dirk’s paranoia managed to affect him, too, somehow. 

By the end of the evening, Karkat and Dave did the dishes while Dirk gave the kids a bath and put them both to bed as Jake continued to be absolutely useless around the apartment. He was really starting to piss Karkat off, so Karkat tried not looking at him too much, or even thinking about him for long, out of complete self-preservation and nothing else. He didn’t care to snap at this guy and tell him to very rudely do  _ something _ with his life, but that wouldn’t sit well with Dirk, or Joey, and probably not Dave, either, so he kept himself in check, and didn’t address Jake at all. His reputation was a wobbly matter that took a lot of grooming to maintain, and that he really couldn’t afford let plummet at this point, not when he was so close to achievable freedom. Joey was put to bed on the futon, the baby was tucked under the covers on a mattress on the floor ways away from Joey, and Jake obviously slept in Dirk’s room with the door open. Karkat wanted to tell them that it was okay to close that, because he sometimes wandered the halls at night, and didn’t want to see anything that they didn’t want him to see, but he decided to leave the entirety of the apartment’s administration to Dirk, and just stayed within the confinements of Dave’s room instead, as if that was a very difficult thing to do. 

In the morning, Karkat hoped to be able to catch Dirk awake before class for a quick word, and not only managed to find Dirk up and about at plain seven in the morning, the rarest possible sight, but the rest of the house, as well, including both Joey and the baby whose name he still didn’t know. It was the most chaotic breakfast that he had ever had, with far too many people cluttering the kitchen, and not nearly enough seats at the counter. He, for one, had his cereal bowl on the couch while Dirk fed the baby by the sink and everyone else managed to get a seat. It was a big mess, and very faintly reminded him of the meals at 27-A, but, surprisingly, he wasn’t too annoyed by this, not as much as he thought that he would’ve been. He blamed his good mood, despite the circumstances, on Joey’s adorable singing and overall happiness. She was a beacon of sunshine. 

After class, Dave picked him up with Joey safely strapped onto the backseat. 

“Oi, Karkat!” His name in her accent sounded adorable, and made him realize that he didn’t hate English accents, only whatever accent happened to leave Jake’s mouth. “How do you do?” 

“Hey, Joey. I’m good. You?” 

“I’m doing wonderfully! We’re to have gelato before supper. How bonkers is that?” 

He passed Dave a quick glance at that. 

“Dirk Strider said that we could.” Joey explained, surely seeing the look on his face. 

“Is that right?”

“Quite!”

There was obviously more to this than Dave simply taking Joey out for some ice cream late in the afternoon, but Karkat refrained from asking after that at the moment, not while in front of her. She was quick-witted and let pretty much nothing pass her by, so he’d take his time holding onto the question, because he really didn’t want it reaching either one of Joey’s guardians to expose his curiosity through her big mouth. Dave must’ve been in on it, if he was driving, and could probably explain the situation to Karkat later. He made a mental note to ask him, but didn’t have to wait too long for his answer. At the ice cream shop, while Joey went around the containers trying to choose which flavor she wanted, Dave sidled up next to him with the intel. 

“Bro’s talking business with Jake right now and needed a second of silence for that. They didn’t tell us when we should be back, so I’m wondering if you don’t want to have dinner somewhere. We can go to BK this time.” 

“Absolutely not; Joey deserves better. She didn’t give up British biscuits to come eat hot garbage in America.” 

“Okay, first of all, that’s fair enough, but BK still holds a dear place in my heart. We’ll take her to Whataburger.” 

“Good. Do you know what kind of business they’re talking about?” 

“Not really; I was playing Debussy for Joey to dance to, and they had the bedroom door closed.” 

“Right.” His brain stirred. “I hope it’s nothing to worry about.” 

It was, of course, something to worry about, and that took up most of Dirk’s already ridiculously limited time. In between caring for Jake’s children and managing an entire factory by himself, Dirk discussed very intricate topics with Jake related to tax accounting, bank accounts, overseas financial management, yearly income, sales income, market shares, and outsourced management, alongside a deeper study of each of these topics that Karkat couldn’t very well follow. He wasn’t actively going out of his way to try to listen into these conversations, though; they just happened in front of him sometimes, while Dirk made dinner, fed the baby, and put the kids in bed. In none of these occasions did Jake seem to be enjoying their talk, or helping in any way, doing nothing but whine and find plot holes for Dirk to fix, which was annoying, but that wasn’t Karkat business to meddle into. He  _ really _ wanted to speak with Dirk, but decided against bringing up more trouble, and, instead, let the whole bureau situation fall under thick layers of dust for weeks on end. 

That was what he thought had happened, that Dirk had completely forgotten about it now that his plate had suddenly quadrupled in content and his responsibilities were through the roof, but, apparently, that hadn’t been the case. Somewhere in the middle of September, as he walked into the apartment after class, Dirk eyed him from the kitchen counter and cut Jake off to call him over. It was a surprise to be able to get even a fraction of Dirk’s attention these days, so having him talk over his beloved to beckon Karkat already felt like a victory in itself. The cherry on top was the annoyance on Jake’s face at that, and how his hand dropped onto the counter along with the rest of his point. Karkat, wearing a shit-eating grin that nearly reached both of his ears, walked over. 

“Yeah?” 

Dirk nodded at the row of bar stools across from him with both hands busy chopping up tomatoes. 

“Take a seat.” 

So this would take long enough for him to want to sit down for it? Perfect. He made a point to take the closest seat next to Jake as territory claim. 

“I don’t believe I told you about the application at any moment while working on it, but it’s been all filled out, paid and sent a while ago, and just today I got a call back from Ms. Paint saying that the congress approved it, so you shouldn’t be running any risk to get taken away from us. She’s going to call me again next year to go through with it, but that’s something else. For now, you don’t have to worry.” 

He breathed out. Dirk had no idea just how much he had needed to hear that, and knowing that he hadn’t been forgotten about was touching, but he refused to let himself tear up in front of Jake English. Not today, and not ever. He simply breathed in as deeply as his lungs would allow, held the tears back, and sighed a minute later, feeling the weight of the world drop from his shoulders. He never thought that getting a reservation would’ve been good news, or that it would quell his anxieties and overall restlessness so effectively, but he was glad to finally be able to relax for once, and not fear his future. He knew now that, in a year’s time, he wouldn’t be taken by some creep to work in their bedroom, or get bundled up together with a bunch of strange trolls to work the kitchen, and not having to constantly worry about that improved his quality of life something drastic. With a weaker, but more genuine smile on his face, he thanked Dirk, and went onto a quick change of topics just before his eyes threatened to water again. 

“Can I ask something… Insensitive?” He spoke while glancing between the two adults in his immediate vicinity, catching Jake’s visible attention with a rise of the brows. 

“Yeah.” 

“Uh.” Another exchange of looks. “Not to sound like an asshole, but how long will you be staying with us?” 

This was the first time since the party that he directly addressed Jake, and it was in a very non-confrontational sort of way, because he really didn’t want to start another fight here, especially not against the man of Dirk’s affections. He had just been wondering that for a while now, because he thought that Jake and his kids would only be staying for a few days, not nearly a month, and, at this point, he wasn’t sure that they’d be leaving at all. Jake looked a little put off and uncomfortable by that, passing Dirk a quick glance before answering Karkat himself, so was Dirk really caught under this guy’s thumb, or was it the other way around? Karkat’s speculations were all over the place with these two; for some reason, he just couldn’t pinpoint who dealt the cards in this relationship, and who set fire to them. He supposed that he’d never be able to without getting to know the first genuine thing about Jake. 

“Ah, you see, Karkat, my good lad, we’ve been planning on something a little bit more fun than my taking off for England again, because, well, I’m in a bit of a pickle there. Truth is, I won’t be moving out anytime soon.” 

Moving out? Meaning that he and the children had moved  _ in _ when they were only supposed to be visiting for a short while? Karkat’s brows lifted with the realization, but his mouth kept tightly shut, and, by sheer luck, managed to not say anything stupid that would ruin his meticulously kept reputation. That was the worst thing Jake could’ve said to him, but, hey, he had put up with much worse shit in the past; next to Dammek’s antics, this was practically nothing, so. Yeah, alright; he supposed he could coexist with Jake English for an indefinite amount of time in the immediate future, that was fine; he just didn’t know how that would work out while locked in the equivalent of a jail cell with the guy and another four people, because this apartment wasn’t made to fit so many breathing organisms inside, but he guessed that he’d have to work with the cards that he had in hand, even if they all happened to be horrendously bad.

“Cool.” He spoke absently, listening to his own voice as if it had come from somebody else’s mouth. “Sweet, dude.” 

“We’ll be working on Jake’s manor soon, and once that’s resolved, we’re all going to move somewhere bigger, so don’t worry about it.” 

He exhaled, and his shoulders relaxed. Dirk could really just read his mind by looking him in the face at this point, huh. That was the very opposite of surprising.

“Oh, good. No offense, but--” His train of thought completely disappeared as his eyes fell onto the high chair placed by the kitchen counter. “Is that a high chair?” 

That was new. 

“Yeah, it’s for Jude.” 

Jude, the baby. That was his name, then. Cool. 

Karkat needed a whole-body cleanse. 

“Awesome. Super sick. I’m gonna take a shower now. See you later, Jake.” 

With that, he hopped out of the bar stool and crossed the living room. 

Dave had been keeping Joey company this entire time, drawing with her at the coffee table and obviously listening to their conversation, so when Karkat passed him by, and their eyes met through mirrored shades, he got up to follow without question. He told Joey that he would be right back, to keep on drawing that badass frog while he was busy, met with Karkat by the hallway door, and towed behind him into the bathroom. 

Safely locked behind the bathroom door, he whispered. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“Yeah.”

“What do you think about it?” 

Dave shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I think it’s fine, I mean, Jake’s alright, Joey’s alright, and, uh, Jude? He’s a baby, inherently a wild card; could be the Devil, or the Archangel. We’ll only know with time, so I don’t know how I feel about that yet. It’s a gamble.” 

“Dave, that’s not what I mean. Don’t you think it’s weird that this random guy showed up out of the blue one day and immediately moved in with your brother? Isn’t that at least fucking suspicious, man?” 

“He’s only a random guy to the two of us; Bro’s known him for, like, a decade.” 

“Without actually speaking with him for  _ years!” _

He hadn’t raised his voice above a technical whisper, but had neared it, and scared himself enough to move away from the door, and over to the shower, where he reached an arm inside the glass box and twisted the knob for the hot water. With it pouring onto the tiles, there was some decent amount of noise to cover up their voices. 

“Look, Karkat, I’m home all afternoon, and I can tell you that they’re very close to each other. You know Bro wouldn’t go out of his way to help some stranger, dude, especially if that means coming into this apartment. That front door’s got a reason to be there, man.” 

“I know, but it’s just weird that this guy from his past shows up all of a sudden, and he’s all too eager to bend over backwards for the dude. I don’t trust that.” 

“Alright, yeah, that’s fishy, but maybe we should trust his judgement on this, because he knows Jake, and we don’t.” 

He frowned, falling pensive. Before him, Dave removed the shades from his face, placed them folded onto the counter, and moved to pull his shirt off overhead. Karkat watched him distractedly for a second, as his brain quietly whirred, and his opinion slowly changed. 

“I’ve never had a reason not to trust his judgement, and I won’t start now, Dave. You know that. All I’m saying is, this whole thing is weird. One day we’re in three, and the next we’re in six.” 

Dave threw his shirt into the hamper alongside his socks. 

“So you’re freaked out by the change.” 

“I guess. It just happened very fast, but I know that they have probably been talking about this for a long time; we just weren’t invited to the meetings.” 

“Are you upset about that?” 

The crease in between his brows deepened with that question. He refused to answer, and, instead, moved on to taking his own shirt off. 

“Karkat, I don’t think this is about us. They’re, like, raising a family together right now. How weird would it be to get caught in the middle of an argument between them? ‘Cause that’s all they do, by the way, and, personally, I’m not here for that, bro.” 

“They argue a lot?” 

That made him remember Dave’s parents’ house, and the argument that they had accidentally walked into when visiting that one time. The way that Dave hadn’t mentioned it back then, acting as if it were a common occurence had made Karkat wonder just how, in all of his childhood, Dave had probably never known a quiet home, and if those memories came crawling back whenever he saw his brother argue with Jake in front of the kids. Karkat hadn’t seen them raise their voice at each other yet, but they did disagree a lot. 

“Yeah, but it’s nothing bad; they’re just always talking about bureaucratic stuff, because I think Jake needs a green card to stay, and Bro’s helping him get one. It’s not like they’re trying to kill each other.” 

So that was the difference. Their arguments were more alike lengthy discussions than a step away from a full blown fight, which explained why Dave was so okay with it. Disagreeing adults didn’t necessarily mean sworn enemies, and Karkat understood that all too well. 

“I know you want to feel included in everything, and, yeah, it would’ve been nice to know about Jake moving in and stuff beforehand, but they look very busy with all of that right now. I’m sure they would’ve told us later on if you hadn’t asked about it.” Dave spoke while tossing the rest of his clothes into the hamper and stepping into the shower, having Karkat follow him right behind. 

“Don’t you think your brother’s taking more than he can handle?” 

“Uh, no, I think he’s fine. He’s too much of a perfectionist to try his hand at anything that he knows is below an 80% chance of success.” 

Karkat fell silent. Under the falling water, Dave took his hand. 

“Dude, it’s gonna be fine. Jake’s cool, and will probably take a minute to get to know us when he can.” 

He nodded.

“I know. You’re right.” His voice was small surrounded by the sound of the cascading water. “Sorry.” 

Dave leaned down to press a firm kiss to his cheek. 

“I have a surprise for you, so don’t run off after this.” 

Instinctively, he squinted up at the two bright reds that watched him. 

“What kind of surprise?” 

“A good one. You’ll see.” 

Not half an hour later, he learned that the surprise wasn’t only good, but probably the most well-thought gift that he had ever gotten. In Dave’s room, with the door closed, Dave handed him an envelope that made his heart race, bringing him back to a few months ago, to the car ride to the building where they visited Ms. Paint for the first time. Taking the envelope, his hands trembled, and he very ardently hoped that whatever was inside of it didn’t relate to the acquisition, but, if it did, then that it was some good news, for once. His fingers curled over the seal flap, but refused to pull it open right away. First, he passed Dave a glance, looking for some sort of green light to keep on going. Dave noticed his nervousness without fail, and gave him a pursed lip kinda look. 

“Chill, dude; it’s not a death sentence in there. Just open it.” 

Green light. With both eyes fixed down at the envelope again, he flipped the seal flap over and slipped his hand inside to come across some papers, which he brought into the light to see were actually photographs; those two that the both of them had taken last year, upon first meeting each other. Dave had taken these blindly with his old film camera, which made both pictures stand out wonderfully, with the both of them artistically off center, the flash reflected onto Dave’s shades, and Karkat blinking in one of these, the very first. The dates were in a corner, but neither of them corresponded to today; these had been taken a few weeks earlier last year. 

“Uh, happy one year anniversary. I totally dropped my photography project after, like, a week, but I had those processed for a while, and I just thought that you’d like to see them, so.” Dave shrugged. 

“Are you kidding me? I, shit, I didn’t even… Today is the thirteenth?” 

“Yeah.”

He closed the distance between them with a step and wrapped both arms around Dave’s torso, squeezing him into a hug. 

“Happy anniversary. I’m sorry.” 

The words were muffled onto Dave’s neck, but perfectly understandable still, which got a light laugh out of Dave as two arms reciprocated the hug with the same intensity. He only pulled back a little bit to meet Dave’s mouth with his own.

“Seriously, I’m sorry I forgot. I’m a fucking dumbass, you know that.” 

“Nah, you’re just going through a lot right now. I get it. Check out how uncomfortable you are in the first picture, though. Everything about you says you didn’t want to be in it.” 

Karkat brought the pictures up to look at again, still half-hugging his matesprit with one arm, and close enough for Dave to be able to see the photographs, as well. With his free hand, Dave pointed at the first one. 

“Look at your shoulders, dude; the scowl on your face. You hated it.” 

“No, I didn’t. I thought it was weird that you were talking to me, and had a film camera, and took a selfie with it in the classroom. That was just a lot.” 

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

“What even made you speak with me? After all this time, I still don’t get that. Why me, dude?” 

“I dunno. ‘Cause you looked adorable, and really fucking pissed, too, about, like, existing in general, and I thought that made the perfect guy to hang out with. I was totally messing with you when I asked you to be my partner, yeah, ‘cause I knew that would make you mad, and it’d be funny, I just didn’t think it’d actually upset you. That talk we had in some classroom? Changed my mind completely.” 

The empty classroom before the period in the library, yeah. Karkat remembered that, too, and how his emotions were all over the place back then, trying to figure Dave out, and how afraid he was to trust Dave, only to have the guy turn out to be a backstabbing asshole in the end. If he knew just how genuinely good Dave was as a person, none of that awkward shuffling around each other would’ve happened, and he probably would’ve let himself fall desperately in love on day one.

“You know, you said you’d be the best partner that I’d ever have, and you were right. You were totally right about that.” 

Dave’s voice put some light color to his cheeks as he rolled his eyes at it, smiling still. This dumb idiot was his everything, and he barely even deserved him. 

“Shut up, dude. You’re too much.” 

Dave snickered. 

“You can’t just tell me you looked at me, and it was love at first sight, Dave, because that’s some inexcusable bullshit that I don’t tolerate. The real reason you talked to me was to piss me off, and that’s it.” 

“Yeah, I said that, but you also looked good, like, I can’t just gloss over that, man. I mean, check out this second picture. Your face? It wasn’t love at first sight as much as I just looked at your face and was compelled to talk to you. Some people call it destiny, you know, but I’ll leave that up to you, my man. I know what I felt.” 

“And what was that?” 

Dave shrugged. 

“I just knew we’d be bonded forever.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next (and final) chapter will be the prologue, which I'll try to finish writing this weekend so I can maybe post it on Sunday. The adventure comes to an end!


	20. Epilogue

_ November _

Thirteen floors down, the cars that drove past were quiet. The neon glow of every open sign and café hanging on the windows and glass doors of the businesses down at street level colored the paint job of passing cars in moving red, wavy green, and static blue, blinking yellow on the rooftop as they neared the traffic light at the intersection. At this hour, most of the Houston population was tucked in bed, but some of them still walked the streets huddled up in thick jackets and long scarves, muffling conversation and snorting laughter with small groups of friends, from one end of the sidewalk to another, from one open door to another. Karkat watched them quietly, with both forearms resting onto the window tracks and a chilling winter breeze sweeping in to ruffle his hair and prickle his nose. He was awake at two in the morning again. 

When his jaw started to tremble, he moved away from the window and slid it back closed, retreating into the warmth of Dave’s bedroom, and the silence of the apartment. From where he sat, on the desk pushed against the wall, and directly under the window, he saw a faint yellow glow crawl under the door, in the gap between it and the floor, far paler than it would’ve been had Dirk’s bedroom light been on, so it must’ve come from elsewhere. The curiosity had him leaving the room to go check on it, even though he didn’t need to go too far out to notice that, indeed, it had come from Dirk’s room, but it wasn’t the overhead light. From the half-open door, he could see into a slither of Dirk’s room; a portion of the bed where Jake slept, if his legs were any indication of that, and enough of the mattress to know that Dirk didn’t currently lay beside him. The faint light must’ve come from a lamp at Dirk’s workstation. 

Quietly, Karkat crossed the hallway and approached the door. Part of it was pure instinct, the familiarity that it gave him to bother Dirk Strider far into the night, when the both of them were the only creatures up at that hour, and part of it was because he hadn’t been able to catch the guy by himself ever since Jake arrived. He knew it was selfish to want a slice of Dirk’s attention when he had so much to manage at the moment, but when the man in question was his guardian at heart, he couldn’t help but feel a little neglected with Jake taking up so much of Dirk’s time. He knew that Dave felt the same, but didn’t express it openly, which validated the root of his selfishness. 

Pushing Dirk’s bedroom door open, his eyes first fell on the sleeping body on the bed next to it, half-concealed by the covers, and seeming completely bare otherwise, before moving to glance at Dirk sitting at his workstation, who wasn’t focusing on it anymore, and, instead, met with Karkat’s eyes squarely on through the shades. Dirk had never berated him for walking into his bedroom before, but Karkat didn’t know to what extent Jake changed things, and if his presence into this room, with Jake still in it, wasn’t welcome. He half-expected to get ordered out as Dirk leaned back onto his chair and swiveled it to make him face Karkat forward. 

“What’s wrong?” Dirk’s voice was the same low and smooth timbre that it always was, regardless of the sleeping figure hidden in partial darkness just across the room. “Trouble sleeping again?”

He nodded his response, not very inclined to vocalize it in fear of jostling Jake from his dreams. His eyes absently followed his train of thought at that, and very briefly flicked onto Jake before resuming their focus onto the pointy shades that watched him carefully. Dirk’s detail perception was finely tuned, and caught onto something as obvious as that without fail. 

“Do you want to talk in the laundry room?” 

That was a weird question, but he supposed that the laundry room was the only place in the apartment that someone wasn’t sleeping in, so he accepted the request, and, despite the fact that he knew exactly where it was, he still let Dirk walk ahead and lead the way. 

With the overhead light on and the door closed, Karkat meandered aimlessly into the room, glancing about at the cluttered mess that was this place, with the washing machine next to a coat rack that had more shoe boxes piled up at the bottom than clothes hanging from it, and the sink under a retractable drying rack with a bedsheet covering it, possibly there to dry. The counters didn’t have space on them to sit on, so he settled for leaning against one while Dirk watched him by the door, with both arms crossed and no shirt on. At this point, Karkat was convinced that this guy just didn’t experience cold temperatures, but at least he wore some pants. 

“What happened, Karkat?” 

“A lot. You’re not very slick, you know. I can see right through you.” 

Dirk’s brow raised. 

“What am I supposedly trying to hide from you?” 

“How desperate you are to feel useful, as if you need to justify your place on Earth. I don’t know Jake very well, but I can see that he’s helpless, and a damn near lost cause, so you turned into the manager of his life choices to tell yourself that you’re relevant, and that somebody needs you. You took Dave in to be someone he can look up to, and you bailed me out of everything to be someone I can count on. You’re trying to give your life meaning by being meaningful to somebody else, and I think I finally see that.” 

“And that’s keeping you up at night?” 

Dirk’s irony was a telltale cover up. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” 

“You’re not wrong, but I don’t see how that would be a problem for you, or anyone.” 

“It’s not a problem, it’s a concern. It’s fine giving some of yourself to other people, but you’re giving all of yourself to Jake, and I don’t know if you realize that.” 

“Of course I do. I know exactly what I’m doing.” 

“Then you know you’re not leaving room for anybody else.” 

“Yeah.” Dirk unfolded his arms. “I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to make time for you and Dave again.” 

“That’s not what the root of this is. You’re so focused on Jake that he’s the only one whose opinions you hear now. You two make major decisions together about stuff that affects all of us without consulting us, too, acting like we’re your kids, when you know Dave’s an adult, and I’m not even a part of this family.” 

“So you’re upset that Jake, the guardian of his children, and I, the guardian of both you and Dave, are acting like guardians and making decisions regarding the people we’re responsible for? Karkat, you’ve been under my care for over a year now; of course you’re a part of this family. I’m sorry that I haven’t talked to you and Dave as much as I should have, and I will rectify that, but don’t forget that I provide for you, and am responsible for your well-being. I know you’re talking about Jake moving in, and the new house, and that I didn’t consult you on that beforehand, and I’m sorry. I definitely should have.” 

The scowl on his forehead hurt with how deep it bore into his skin by now, but not as much as Dirk including him into the family, which wasn’t something that he thought he’d ever hear from a human being. Living with the Striders was one thing, but actively being included as a member of the family was something else completely that he probably should’ve seen coming, but that his internalized prejudice didn’t let him even as much as consider it a possibility. It touched him, and made him regret calling Dirk out so harshly, when the guy didn’t even deserve it. He swallowed thickly and averted his eyes, feeling the crease in his brow begin to lessen. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For?”

“Being an ungrateful piece of shit.” 

Dirk snorted. 

“Right. I’ll accept the apology to make you feel better, not because it was necessary.” A pause. “Do you really hate Jake?” 

At the question, his eyes refocused onto Dirk’s shades. 

“I never said that I do.” 

“You didn’t need to.” 

Suddenly, his cheeks burned. 

“I didn’t, I don’t, I don’t hate him. I never did, I just don’t like him. It’s different. He’s… Dirk, he’s trouble, and I’m sure you know that. The only reason he’s here is because you’re in love with him against all logic, and the kids are just a bonus. I don’t even know him.” 

Dirk nodded, remaining silent. 

“He was your first, wasn’t he?” 

The question slipped out before he could catch it. Thankfully, Dirk didn’t answer. 

“You don’t have to say it. I didn’t mean to ask.” His voice was small, and, at this point, he was very acutely aware of the fact that he was rambling, pushing boundaries left and right, because he and Dirk weren’t even that close to begin with. Dirk was his guardian, not his moirail, and love advice didn’t apply to what they had between them at all. If anything, Dirk should’ve been the one giving him advice on virtually anything. “I’m sorry. I hope you’re happy, and that Jake treats you right this time around. I really do.” 

His eyes couldn’t meet with Dirk’s stone cold face. 

“Are you afraid he’s going to pull some stunt on me?” 

The question caught him by surprise, because he sincerely thought that he had screwed this up beyond repair, and that Dirk was about to give him the silent treatment for the whole of the next week, even though that had never happened, and he had never seen Dirk be very stern with either him or Dave in the past. The most that Dirk ever did was lecture the two of them whenever they messed up, and if it happened to be something particularly serious, the lecture would turn into an interrogation, but, otherwise, Dirk hadn’t given him a reason to be wary of him. That must’ve come from a lingering of the initial intimidation that Dirk used to impose on him by accident; it was really just the muscles, bigger than his face, and accentuated now by a lack of a shirt. 

“I’m pretty sure that he will, if he’s the one who left you before.” 

He was pushing it now, he knew it, but Dirk had given him the opening, and he took it. The moment that Dirk pushed back, he’d back down immediately. 

“I don’t think he’s capable of pulling a rerun on me, and you’d feel the same if you took a moment to get to know him.” 

“I’m not the one who’s constantly hounding you and avoiding eye contact with everybody else, dude. If he wants to talk to me, he can just do that, you know. I’m right here.” 

Dirk didn’t fight him on that, and, instead, nodded his understanding of it, which Karkat was glad to see, because it meant that Dirk wasn’t completely lost into Jake’s loving trance, and some reason still existed within him; it was probably only a little faulty around Jake himself, and regarding anything that directly involved him, but it was far better than living in a rose-tinted fantasy. Dirk listened to reason, and, when Jake awkwardly approached Karkat three days later for a chat, it couldn’t have been by coincidence. 

Incidentally, those happened to be the weirdest ten minutes of his life, but it was a gesture, and Karkat saw that. Jake was sending the message that he wasn’t completely unreachable, and Karkat was welcome to speak with him at his leisure, which was exactly what they needed to break the ice. Despite it all, he appreciated that. 

_ December 3rd _

Saturday, 9:59 AM. Dave would be up in a minute. Karkat left the bathroom to go meet with him for his birthday gift, but, as he crossed the hallway, the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of green and black walking into the living room, which was very obviously Jake, and shouldn’t have been reason to stop midway into the hallway to stick his neck out and peek from around the corner. He knew that Dirk was in the kitchen without his birthday wishes from Karkat yet, and that Jake was only about to do that for himself, so, really, Karkat had no excuse to be spying on them right now, other than his eyes just wouldn’t leave Jake’s wide frame for some reason, and kind of, sort of refused to stop watching as he sauntered into the kitchen with a stupid grin on his face and very shamelessly sidled up to Dirk by the counter. There was no way to misinterpret the signs, and Karkat knew exactly what was about to happen, but still couldn’t manage to look away, and stood perfectly still while Jake got Dirk to face him, and proceeded to land a kiss squarely on his lips. 

That made Karkat’s eyes three sizes too big for comfort, and the rest of his body quickly move away from the corner to duck into Dave’s room, where, as he closed the door behind himself, the alarm clock went off. He didn’t know why that sight had been such a shock to him, when he had very well been expecting it the entire time, and a chaste kiss wasn’t even that big of a deal, anyway, no matter how he looked at it. The relationship between those two had never been a secret, except Karkat hadn’t actually seen them touch one another in front of other people, or even regard each other as anything more affectionate than two business partners who run the same company together, so, in his defense, he had some right to freak out about this. He had never seen Dirk in a romantic light before, as in, he had never considered Dirk to be a person who dated other people, always having labeled him as a man who was part human and part machine, or the closest he would ever get to a father figure, which, admittedly, was a very strange thought to have, because he still didn’t know what fathers did, or the role that they played in a family. He just supposed that, if Dirk was his guardian, then there probably shouldn’t be somebody else in the picture, sharing the spotlight, but what did he know. Maybe Jake was a complete idiot, and maybe Dirk liked that about him. 

The alarm clock blared through the room. In bed, Dave breathed in once, deeply, stirred, flipped over, and reached for his phone, smartly placed out of reach the night before by his own self, knowing the results of the snooze button. Karkat swiftly locked the door behind himself while the alarm continued to fill the room with noise, and very inconspicuously walked over to Dave’s bed next, where his matesprit groaned with his resignation to the morning light. Before Dave actually moved to get out of bed, though, Karkat turned the alarm off for him, and joined him instead. At that, two very sleepy reds opened just a sliver to look at him. 

“Hey.” He greeted easily, lying down on his matesprit’s chest to place a kiss on Dave’s neck and speak against it. “Happy birthday.” 

“Thanks.” 

By Dave’s voice, he knew that his eyes had closed again, and the dude was a second away from resuming unconsciousness, so Karkat had to act fast to spark up his attention, which wasn’t exactly rocket science by now. His mouth trailed down Dave’s neck, kissing the skin as he went, and got Dave’s hand to rest atop his black mess of hair as a reward, letting him know that Dave was at least vaguely aware of this. That was a check on step one. Reaching the crook of Dave’s neck, where it met his collarbone, Karkat pulled his top lip back to let his teeth press down onto the skin just enough to feel them without breaking through. He knew that that was a success at getting Dave’s attention because the hand in his hair pushed fingers down to tangle with the locks, and the heart beating just below his own went off tempo for a second. Dave must’ve been mostly awake by now, but still didn’t say anything about this, so Karkat continued, joining tongue with teeth and more teeth for a hickey. Dave shivered from that, and his uniform heart rate went flying completely out the window; Karkat could feel the reverberations of Dave’s ribs on his palm. 

He was careful not to break the skin, only bruise it a little bit, as a hand slipped under Dave’s shirt for a moment of self-indulgence. His palm pressed down to feel the smoothness of Dave’s body, warm to the touch, and the light bumps of his scars, few and far in between, all the way up to his chest, past a firm stomach under soft flesh; this wasn’t the side of the knife incident. He felt the ripples of Dave’s ribs, and the rise of his chest, which he grabbed while moving away from Dave’s collarbone to continue on forward, dragging his lips down the center of Dave’s thorax, which his shirt now left uncovered. The hand in his hair remained as he kissed down Dave’s stomach, stopping a moment to kiss his navel, something he had come to appreciate in the details of the human body. It was the little things that really sold it to him. That, and nipples, which Dave didn’t seem to feel any which way about. 

“Birthday BJ?” 

The fingers in his hair carded idly through the locks, brushing his bangs out of his face to go with the words. His reds flicked up to meet with Dave’s half-lidded ones just as he kissed the waistband of his pajama pants. 

“Birthday BJ.” He echoed back at his matesprit, moving away to tug his clothes off. Dave obediently raised his hips to give him an easier time, and, for that, Karkat would pay him very kindly. 

If Dave paid him back in the shower, that came entirely from his own volition. 

By the time they were both dressed and ready to start the day, the living room was completely empty, devoid of both children and adults alike, which made Karkat wonder just how long that shower ended up being. Had they really taken so long to get ready? That couldn’t be right; Dave hadn’t lasted five minutes under his care, and the shower, well. Had it really taken that much longer than usual? He guessed a two-step process would take double the regular time, and if they really were so late, then it made sense that the rest of the house hadn’t waited for them to get on with their morning, but Karkat was unapologetic of that; the shower had been awesome, and had left him hoping for a round two later today. It was still early, so there was plenty of room for that, whether or not Dave had caught on to it yet. 

“Where’s everyone?” Dave asked with the sort of lethargy reserved for well fed predators while making his way across the living room. Behind him, Karkat reached into a pocket and pulled out his phone to check the group chat that Jake had so thoughtfully created for the four of them a while ago, and that was mostly used to share memes with everyone in an efficient manner. 

“Jake says they’re at Snooze and will only be back late afternoon, so I guess breakfast and lunch are up to us. What do you want to do?” 

In the kitchen, Dave shrugged disinterestedly, already scouting the fridge for anything still edible forgotten in it, which, after Jake and the kids had moved in, shouldn’t be too difficult to find. The six of them were driven to the supermarket about twice a week now, with how much everyone ate here, which made Karkat really reconsider the size of their current fridge, because this was, in no way, a luxurious living. He hoped that, at the new place, they’d get a decently sized fridge, but didn’t that also mean shopping for ridiculous amounts of food once every two weeks, then? He wasn’t sure how a big family life worked without egregious amounts of effort put into maintaining it, or how single parents did it, and didn’t really want to figure it out. 

“I was thinking takeout and Netflix, like last year.” 

“But this is your twenty-first. Don’t people usually throw exaggerate parties with beer kegs to celebrate?” 

“You’ve been watching too many Hollywood movies. Life isn’t Mean Girls, you know.” 

“Are you telling me you’re not Regina George and this isn’t North Shore High?” 

Dave shook his head with a cup of yogurt in hand, pushing the fridge door closed. Without the shades on, Karkat saw that eye troll. 

“First of all, Mean Girls wasn’t even that good.” 

“Dave. I’m going to stop you right there, because I want our relationship to survive the end of the day, alright? But don’t you want something different this year? I mean, this is a milestone, right? Act like a real college student and get drunk for once.” 

Dave took a spoon from the drawer and very dismissively ate his yogurt while Karkat talked, giving him a half-lidded, blasé look on the meanwhile that actually got Karkat shutting up, and almost mimicking the expression on Dave’s face back to him. This guy looked like he had heard this about a million times before, even though that was impossible. 

“What? Why not, dude? C’mon, it’ll be fun.” 

“Karkat, if you want to go so bad, I’ll go with you, but it won’t be for me.” 

“Why don’t you want to go? You sound like a seventy year old right now.” 

“I’ve had my fair share of getting fucked up before, and I’m kinda over it now, but, seriously, if you want to go, we can go.” 

“What, really? Does anyone know about that?”

“Just John, but whatever. Look up some party that’s going on tonight and we’ll be there.” 

“You ever stole a bus, too?”

“What? No.  _ What?” _

“Nevermind. I’ll see what’s going on tonight.” 

As it turned out, more than just a few college parties happened on a Saturday night, which allowed Karkat the privilege of choosing one for them to attend, as well as checking out the clubs that they had around this area, and would open much later. Interestingly enough, these clubs were a lot closer than most of the house parties, so the two of them made plans to go check them out first, out of pure convenience, and maybe crash a party after, or even go somewhere else entirely. They weren’t sure where tonight would lead them exactly, but they’d be together for it, and that was all that actually mattered. Their club of choice only opened at ten, though, so Karkat kept Dave busy on the meanwhile, kissing him through breakfast, treating him to Hugo’s for lunch, and coloring his neck purple to Crazy, Stupid, Love as the sun went down, and Netflix wondered if they were still watching. They knew that Dirk, Jake, and the kids would be back sometime in the afternoon, and would walk into the living room first thing, but Karkat had accounted for that, and messed around responsibly. 

Just as he predicted, the two of them were perfectly respectable when the door opened to welcome the older birthday boy and his imported lover, with Dave absently carding through Karkat’s hair, and their free hands interlaced as King Kong shouted in the background. At the sound of the door unlocking, Karkat lifted his head from Dave’s shoulder to peek over the backrest of the couch, and watch the two tallest men in his life stride in alone, chatting lightly and grinning at each other, as if the children that they were supposed to be raising together hadn’t been forgotten at an intersection somewhere. Karkat frowned, but said nothing while getting up to greet Dirk, and, he supposed, to a lesser degree, also Jake. 

“Hey.” He spoke quietly, not trying to kill the conversation going on between the two, but also trying to do exactly that. His mere presence was enough to get two pairs of glasses directing themselves at him, though, and a brief silence present itself as his opening. “Happy birthday, Dirk. Sorry I missed you earlier.” 

“Happy birthday, Bro.” Dave added from the couch, his head poking out from atop the backrest. 

“Thanks, Karkat, and happy birthday to you, too, lil’ man. What are you guys up to tonight?” 

“We’re going out to a club, so Dave can have his first Hollywood experience as a real American.” 

That put a smile on Dirk’s face that, otherwise, Karkat would’ve never been able to picture for himself. 

“How marvelous!” Jake happily exclaimed, cutting his way into the conversation. “Downtown Houston is notorious for their rather superb knees-up, lads; you’re in for a jolly good time. Now, Dirk and I will be at Vic and Anthony’s later tonight, for dinner, evidently, and the children are with Roxy at the moment, so you needn’t worry. Get off with one another and camp it up to your heart’s content, boys! I expect no less of you this evening.” 

Karkat’s brows raised. Realistically speaking, he supposed that what Jake said must’ve had a different meaning in England as it did in here, but, to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t very far off the mark with that, either. 

“Fuck yeah, dude.” Dave commented from the couch, drawing a very obvious blank at what Jake had just tried to say to him. “What time are you guys coming back?” 

“Probably before you two.” Dirk reassured him. 

Karkat believed that to be true, because both Dirk and Jake left around seven to Vic and Anthony’s, all dressed up in vests and suits, which, admittedly, was a pretty regular look for Jake, but that Karkat had never seen on Dirk before, and almost made him look like a completely different person. He didn’t even know that Dirk owned a suit in the first place, much less a vest and tie to go with it, but he couldn’t say that it didn’t fit him, or this new person that it turned him into. In his defense, he had only ever seen Dirk in tank tops and t-shirts, so any remote change in wardrobe would’ve been a shock, anyway. Both Dirk and Jake matched in gray suits, black shoes, and white dress shirts, and left with a brief goodbye, holding hands to the door. Karkat wasn’t sure why, but the image of their hands interlaced burned into the back of his retinas, and covered his eyes until his plate had been scraped clean, and Dave reached into the paper bag for one last taco. 

“You ever… Dave, do you, like, ever… Do you ever think…” 

He wasn’t sure where his mind was going with that; currently too scrambled with the interlaced hands and that one kiss that Jake had planted on Dirk’s face earlier today to really put his thoughts into coherent sentences, and, instead, leaving him grasping for a lifeline that never came. He noticed his incredible lack of communication skills, and did himself the favor of shutting his mouth for now, choosing silence as his eyes stared at absolutely nothing to mirror how his head felt inside. Next to him, Dave really busied himself with that one taco. 

“What?” Dave asked a minute later, when he could, but nothing actually formed in Karkat’s brain to answer that, so he simply shrugged in reply, and took his empty plate to the sink. 

It was only a handful of hours later, as they were both getting ready to leave, that the fog in his skull had cleared up enough to connect his mouth to reason and finally push his thoughts out. 

“Do you ever think about your brother and Jake?” He blurted out in the closet, with pants halfway up his legs and no shirt to accompany them yet. 

While slipping a jacket on, Dave passed him a brief sidelong glance. 

“Sure, dude.” 

“I mean, as a couple?”

“Uh, yeah.” 

“As two people in a relationship together?”

“Where are you getting at?” 

“It’s weird, isn’t it? I can’t picture your brother being affectionate with anyone. It’s just, it’s not him, you know? I mean, it’s not the him that I have in mind, I guess. I, I don’t think I actually know him, Dave. Is that weird?” 

Dave stared at the side of his face for a second, pushing him to turn and meet with the shades that were directed at him. In the reflection, he saw a half-naked troll version of a lunatic. 

“Where did that come from?” 

“Am I being weird right now?” 

“No. I mean, yeah, a little bit, but I get it. Bro’s not easy to understand, and I know he seems like he’s super emotionally distant, but he’s really not. You’ve only known him for a year, so don’t expect to get him right away, dude. He’s not the norm.”

“I saw them kissing earlier today.” 

“You look like you saw something much worse than that.” 

“It was fucked up, dude. They were kissing, man! I wasn’t supposed to see that.” 

“Big deal, Karkat.” 

“I know I’m overreacting, Dave, thanks, now tell me why I find that so weird.” 

“Uh, probably ‘cause you see Bro as your single dad, and it’s weird to see your single dad not acting like a total dad for a minute.” For the next part, Dave made his voice different. “So you mean to tell me that my dad has romantic interests with people his age? Miss me with that shit. Don’t ever come to my house again.” 

“What’s a dad, Dave? What do they do?” 

“Bro’s like a dad. Kinda always there, but not really; gives you too much space, but semi there when you need him; will for sure help you with your car insurance and repair your engine, if you need it; a little cryptic, doesn’t talk a lot, and you’ll never really know him. That’s what a dad is, I think.” 

“Is that how Diego is like?” 

“No, Diego is more of a classic, married dad; literally too emotionally distant to hold a meaningful conversation or even look you in the eye too much.” 

Karkat frowned. None of this made any sense. 

“Sure, Dave. I’ll just try to get used to it, I guess.” 

The nightclub was twenty minutes from opening by the time they arrived, and the amount of people already lined up at the door was far more than they had anticipated it would be. In reality, they didn’t actually think that anyone would be here right now, because the club wasn’t even open yet, but, clearly, they were wrong about that. The people in line were all very young, just about their age, if not only a year or so older, dressed up in leather jackets and skinny jeans, which had them blending right in as they took their place at the very end of the line. The loud music that played inside the club already was muffled by the walls, but bled through the gaps in the door, making Karkat wonder what the hold up was, if everything was ready to go, but everyone still stood outside, hugging themselves from the cold and huddling together to fend off the wind. 

Faces stared when they arrived, and heads turned as they moved to the back of the line, with glittery eyes and dark pupils fixed on Karkat the entire time, making him self-conscious enough to pull the hoodie up over his head. With the horns hidden away, and his face partially in the shadows, then maybe they’d forget that he was different, and the newcomers that lined up behind them wouldn’t know. It’d be fine, he told himself as heads kept on swiveling, and whispers filled up the sidewalk. Were trolls not allowed in, or had these people just never seen one before? He felt weird, being the center of attention without meaning to, but tried to keep his eyes down and not stare too much. That was usually an invitation to get into trouble. 

“Hey, why don’t we go somewhere else?” Dave asked him out of the blue, jerking a thumb toward the entrance of the club. “This seems like it’ll take forever, so, maybe, we can come back later.” 

His heart leapt, but he only outwardly shrugged in nonchalance. 

“It’s your birthday; we’ll do whatever you wanna do.” 

“Sweet. Let’s go to that house party first.” 

Leaving the line and the dozens of eyes that bore through him felt cleansing. 

This particular house party was far different than the one that he had crashed last year, with the first main difference being the house and neighborhood downgrade, from a three story mansion in a gated off community to a one story suburban residence, and the second being the lack of a bouncer or any gates surrounding the real state area, which made getting in a lot easier, and far less inconspicuous than the club from ten minutes ago. They weren’t ID’d at all, the front door was blown wide open, and college students came and went in walking styles very similar to the ones in Monty Python, clearly too wasted to even notice the gray of Karkat’s skin. In their defence, he did make it a little difficult to see, clad in dark pants and a warm hoodie, and no one was interested enough to poke their head under the hem of his hood to look him in the face, so it all worked out for the better. He took Dave’s hand and crossed the living room with him, shouldering through the dancing crowd straight to the beer kegs. 

He had never really considered himself a lightweight before, but when a single glass of vodka made his two solo cups of beer seem like water, he realized that he was a complete rookie at this game, because everyone around him downed six shots in thirty seconds and swiped margaritas for the road while dancing on the counter in six inch heels, and his world already swam two thirds down his fruity drink. He didn’t know if he could say the same for Dave, because he didn’t keep very close attention to his cup, but Dave wasn’t vaulting over the counter two hours into the party to chug beer upside down, so he probably knew how to pace himself. Meanwhile, two feet from him, Karkat mixed vodka with rum and let the void absorb his entire existence. 

They danced a lot. In between sipping from solo cups and meeting with Dave’s mouth, their presence at the dance floor was practically eternal. When the flickering lights overhead put Dave in slow motion to the metallic sound of Katy Perry’s voice, and the entire dance floor looked like a stop motion movie, the world didn’t spin for a whole second, the people around them didn’t really exist, and Karkat suddenly understood the meaning of breathtaking, chest-seizing love. 

They made out in the kitchen, at some point; Dave pushed the back of his thighs against the edge of a counter, held his face in a hand, kissed his lips swollen, and nobody around them cared.

They ran into John outside, in the backyard. He was smoking something next to a circle of people that neither one of them knew, and spotted the two as Karkat pulled Dave to follow a group of people into the pool. A loud voice and a wave beckoned them over, so they very absently obeyed them, coming to meet with two lazy blues swimming in red and a genuinely wide grin. John still thought that Karkat took Calculus with him, and seemed surprised to see that his classmate and his old best friend miraculously knew each other. Dave didn’t know about the fake classmate story, and Karkat didn’t bother to tell, so nobody really understood one another for the entire time that they spoke with John, but they got to toke on whatever it was that John was smoking, spoke in three different languages, and Karkat doubted that anyone here would remember any of it. Dave and John were very friendly with one another, laughing at nothing while Karkat drank from John’s half-empty cup, and finished it for him, before pulling the two to rejoin the party, where they soon lost sight of John deep into the dance floor. 

At some point into the night, they left the party entirely. Karkat wasn’t sure why, but he felt that, somehow, he had influenced this decision making, probably with something that he had said to Dave, but that he immediately forgot about the moment that it left his lips. Instead of trying to figure that out, though, he just took Dave’s hand and followed him outside, where it looked cold, but that he didn’t feel it on his face. The streets were dark, but the lights were bright, and he didn’t recognize this neighborhood at all, so they must’ve been decently far from the apartment. Very briefly, he wondered if they would actually make it back home tonight, but the prospect of getting lost until morning was a lot more interesting to him. 

Walking at his side, Dave seemed more alert than he was to the world around them, which was probably good, given the fact that they were drunkenly wondering the streets alone far too late into the night, or possibly early into the morning, like two easy targets. Karkat told himself that he wasn’t that easy to take on, but immediately tripped onto a piece of the sidewalk that was a little uneven from the rest, and reconsidered that. 

“You look hot in that jacket.” He slurred in a low voice, glancing at Dave from the corner of his eye to make conversation during the walk. The neighborhood was quiet, not many cars drove past, and the silence was slowly killing him. 

“You said that already.” Dave deadpanned a little rudely, but also making Karkat double take and try to recall the last two and a half minutes to verify that. Unfortunately for him, all he actually remembered was leaving the party hand-in-hand.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, a minute ago.”

“Well.” A pause to take that into serious consideration, instantly followed by his resignation to Dave’s claim, not in the mood to really argue with him on his birthday, and letting him have that one this time. Karkat was also too drunk to hold up the end of a well constructed argument, anyway. “Did I ever tell you that--”

“I look good in this jacket?”

“No, and don’t interrupt me, asshole. I was gonna say you look fucking hot in anything.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Where are we going?” 

Dave turned to give him a look at that, as if his question were so unbelievable that it required emphasis on Dave’s disbelief to make him see it, except that that didn’t help him see anything besides his own stupid reflection on mirrored shades, which already pissed him off under regular circumstances, but that, right now, doubled the usual effect, because it was too dark for Dave to even be wearing them. With a hard crease in between his brows, he reached his free hand to Dave’s face and pulled the shades right out of it. Instinctively, Dave flinched at that, but didn’t actually stop him from doing it. More and more recently, Dave had been letting him pluck the shades away with little to no resistance at that, giving him the sort of power that would never be resigned from. 

“What’s wrong with my question?” He asked with an edge to his tone while setting the shades atop his own head. Dave watched that while very passively okay with it. 

“Nothing, except, like, ten minutes ago you screamed that you wanted to leave and see the inside of that club from earlier, so I don’t know if me saying alright and walking out with you meant we’re going anywhere other than there.” 

Right. So that was what his intuition had been about. Nodding his understanding of that, Karkat pulled the hoodie back up and looked out onto the street. 

“Should we hotwire a car?” 

“For what?”

“To get there faster.” 

“It’s only a couple of blocks from here.” 

“Oh. I knew that.” 

“You can hotwire a car? Like, for real?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve never done it, but I could do it. I could do it right now, to that one.” He spoke while pointing at a parked Ford in someone’s driveway across the street. It was all very hazy and dark, but he was pretty sure it was a Ford. 

“No, not that one.”

“I could take a bus, too. Bet it wouldn’t be too much faster than walking, though.” 

“Nah, it’s cool. We’re almost there.” 

The line was completely gone when they got there, muffled music still boomed from the club, and the bouncer eyed them suspiciously by the door. Karkat had a bad feeling about this as Dave dragged him over to the entrance, but soon realized it was only generalized nausea that had nothing to do with the bouncer at all, and happily stood next to his matesprit as Dave approached the guy, who was very tall, and looked very unfriendly. Absently, Karkat knew that he could make a friend out of this very large human man in a heartbeat if he wanted to. 

“Hey, dude. We’ve never been here, so would you mind, like, telling us how it works?” 

“Entrance fee is ten for men and thirty for trolls.” 

“What?” He cut in incredulously, unaware of the look that the bouncer gave him in return for that. “That’s fucking expensive.” 

“Hey.” Dave whispered to him, taking his wrist, and addressing the next part to the bouncer. “Sorry, we’ll be right back.” 

A few ways off to the side, Dave let him go. 

“Don’t fucking antagonize him, dude. Did you see how big he is?” 

“Why do I gotta pay more? That’s bullshit, Dave. Let’s go somewhere else.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, unless you want to go in?” 

“No, it’s whatever for me. I thought you wanted to go.” 

“Well, I don’t anymore. We can find something better to do just rounding the corner, I’m sure.” 

Rounding the corner down the street was a gas station and a convenience store, which Karkat was all too happy to barge into and go ogle the different brands of beer that they had in the fridge, as well as the cheap vodka that they had on the shelves behind the cashier. A couple of people were checking out the Dorito bags when they entered, but, otherwise, the store was empty, and the street was quiet, letting Karkat’s foggy subconscious know that it was late out, and that they should probably be going home by now. Ignoring the very small part that reason usually played in his brain was particularly easy tonight as he reached into the refrigerator and took a beer bottle that had the drawing of a forest on it and handed it over to Dave to pay for it. 

“Do you want anything?” He asked on the way to the checkout. 

“Nah, I’m good.” 

He barely registered that, but as Dave didn’t deviate from the path to get himself anything, the symbolism of their short walk to the checkout really explained Dave’s answer to him on a multi-layered dimension basis. When they actually stopped in front of the guy, though, all of his newly acquired, transcendental knowledge had completely vanished from his mind. He hardly even remembered what they were here for, until the cashier took the beer and asked for Dave’s ID. That made everything come rushing right back. 

“It’s his birthday.” He explained to the guy. 

“Happy birthday. Can I get you anything else?” 

“No, thanks.”

“That’ll be three fifteen.” 

Karkat didn’t know how much beers usually cost by themselves, and would’ve never been able to tell brands apart in his current state anyway, by taste or otherwise, so he supposed that a three dollar beer was probably a waste right now, but whatever. He took it from the counter, bit the cap off, and drank from it surprisingly easily, barely even feeling the bitter taste that the stout left behind to sting his tongue with. He didn’t watch Dave pay, but felt an arm round his waist and pull him outside, so he knew that Dave was done here. 

“Are you having fun?” He asked as they crossed the gas station side-by-side, feeling warm under Dave’s wing, and too warm in his stomach, nearly choking him alive with the threat of spilling from his throat. It was the carbon dioxide, he knew that. It usually tried to kill him. He raised the beer bottle to offer it to Dave. 

“Yeah.” Dave said simply, and took the bottle for a swig. 

Karkat leaned closer to press his lips to Dave’s neck while he was busy with that. He knew by logic that the hickeys from earlier were still there, even if his vision was too hazy to see them right now. 

“You ever broke into someone’s house?” He asked absently, pulling away from Dave’s neck to look him in the face. That question had been haunting him for the last thirty seconds. 

“No.” 

“Ever stole a car?”

“No.”

“Killed a man?”

“What the fuck, Karkat?”

He snorted. 

Carrying the weight of Dave’s arm across his shoulder, and leaning onto his matesprit with an arm around his waist was how he accompanied Dave out of the gas station, across the street, and down a couple of blocks, passing the beer back and forth until the bottle was empty, and he hurled it carelessly over a fence, straight into someone’s backyard. Dave didn’t like that at all, and berated him for it in hushed, angry whispers that had him guffawing loudly; his laughter easily reverberated down the entire street and back to them, making Dave try to shush him quiet and fail. 

“Your DNA is on that, you know.” 

“You think they’ll trace it back to me?” 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

“I’ll go get it, then.” He spoke while disentangling himself from Dave, and walking over to the fence, which happened to be placed over a half wall behind some decorative bushes with flowers in them. Karkat wasn’t exactly a master at parkour, but he had climbed over some stuff in the past, and wouldn’t put this amateur trial past himself. Dave, on the other hand, promptly took his arm and kept him from approaching the bushes. 

“No, don’t do that.” 

“I’ll be fast, dude. Watch me.” 

“Don’t, Karkat. Are you crazy?” 

“Come with me, then.” 

“No.” 

He tried yanking his arm free from Dave’s grasp, but even drunk Dave was a lot stronger than he was, and maintained a firm hold on him that soon had him quitting the fight for freedom. 

“C’mon, Dave. It’ll be fine, dude.” 

“No, Karkat, that’s insane.” 

Dave was ticklish in the ribs. That piece of information reached his brain out of nowhere, as a saving grace, and pushed him to put both of his grabby hands on Dave’s sides, viciously tickling him there, with no mercy spared for the weak. Evidently, it worked, and had Dave letting go of his arm to fight him off from his personal space. Once free, Karkat immediately turned around, bolted for the fence, buried himself into the bushes to soon emerge from them, stepped onto the half wall, and vaulted over it all with the sort of ease of either a professional, or an extremely drunk individual. As was usually the case for him with these things, the way up went perfectly fine, while the way down hardly ever had gravity accounted for, and landed Karkat on both feet, followed by hands, knees, and everything else splayed onto someone’s well kept lawn. The world spun all around him; the stars turned into long, shiny lines in the sky, the building next to him bent awkwardly to the side, almost falling to crush him alive, and Dave’s face was there, just over the fence, staring at him. He moved to sit up and stare right back. 

“Karkat, come back here.” Dave whispered with a deep crease in between his brows, something that Karkat had come to appreciate on him. He looked good when mad. 

“You look good mad.” 

“Get the fuck back here.”

He got up to stand on both feet, swayed a little, and turned to look at the rest of the backyard. As it turned out, this wasn’t the backyard of a house, but the garden of a building, very carefully kept, and placed next to the pool, where the empty bottle floated around. 

“Dave, I found the bottle. It’s in the pool.” 

“Leave that alone, Karkat. Come back.” 

“No, hold on. I’ll get it.” 

Stepping out of the garden, the soles of his shoes found the tiles that surrounded the pool area, and left dirty prints on them as he walked over to where the bottle was, the closest edge of the pool to it. Dave kept whispering at him from behind the fence, but he didn’t exactly pay that too much mind in his pursuit, letting it fall as background noise. By the edge of the pool, he knelt down and reached an arm for the bottle, trying his best not to lose balance right here, and fall in. It almost happened, but the cold fear in his veins pushed him back, and his short little arms couldn’t bring the bottle with him. He guessed it was time for a swim, then, if he couldn’t reach it otherwise, but didn’t get the chance to remove the first piece of clothing before Dave had him by the arm, and dragged him away from the edge. 

“You’re here.” He deadpanned, meaning to sound surprised, but failing at that, too. 

“No shit.” Dave whispered, still mad at him while pulling him up to his feet. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

“The bottle.” 

Fuming, Dave leaned down to swipe the bottle from the pool, but, as he did so in a mood and without taking the time to be careful about it, he nearly fell in, as well, and would have, had Karkat not been there to take his arm. That only served to piss him off further, shake Karkat off, and this time kneel down to carefully pluck the bottle from the water. With the bottle in hand, he shoved it onto Karkat’s chest, and moved to stand on both feet. Unsurprisingly, Karkat’s inebriation found that to be absolutely hilarious. 

“You’re so fucking mad.” 

“Shut up.” Dave hissed quietly, not bothering to hide his frustration as he took Karkat’s upper arm and pulled him back over to the garden in the very corner, clearly not meaning to spend another second in trespassed territory. Sure, his bad humor was funny, but Karkat didn’t care for the way that Dave pushed him around right now, and jerked himself free. 

“Don’t touch me like that.” 

“Sorry.” 

With the bottle shoved down the pocket of his hoodie, he climbed up the short wall and jumped over the fence, this time more mindful of the ground that would meet him on the other side, and getting a faceful of bushes instead. He had forgotten about those. Also, on the way down, the bottle slipped from his jacket and smashed onto the sidewalk, which was the very opposite of good and inconspicuous. He cringed at the loud noise it made, already half-expecting a sermon from Dave, but getting none as Dave gracefully landed next to him, and completely ignored the mess on the floor; he simply brushed his clothes down, passed the broken glass a disinterested glance, and fixed the reds on Karkat’s face next. 

“Are you okay?” Dave asked in a soft tone, the absolute contrast of how he sounded a second ago. It would’ve made sober Karkat suspicious of him on the spot, but, since Karkat’s sobriety was far gone, he didn’t even flinch.

“Yeah.” 

Dave reached a hand to touch his face, run fingertips along his cheekbone, and rest a palm on the side of his neck, watching him with a lighter crease in his brow now, and a softer look in his eye. Karkat felt his own cheeks heat up at it. 

“Sorry for being a jerk.” 

Without a word, he nodded, and took Dave’s hand in his own. 

“Let’s get the fuck outta here, Dave.” 

Dave scoffed a laugh at that, following him down the street. 

“Thanks for the most chaotic birthday of my life, dude.” 

“You’re Goddamn welcome.” 

_ December 31st _

Sizzling champagne, sparkling lights, polite conversation, and light jazz music. The evening had barely even started and Karkat felt woozy already, swimming in the pleasant buzz that the rosé in his round glass gave him. He wasn’t listening to anyone in particular, or even engaged in conversation, but well dressed people soaked in Chanel No. 5 still spoke all around him, with anyone that would listen, or simply look at them for long enough, engulfing him in soft voices and unwelcome pleasantries. Every major event at Roxy’s had always been like this, so it wasn’t like Karkat was unfamiliar with it by now, it was only that he still couldn’t find it in himself to enjoy them. It wasn’t her fault, really; he just didn’t find this to be catered to him, or much alike him at all. Watching the dazzling crowd with an absent mind, he swirled the contents of his glass, and took Dave’s hand with his free one. Dave had so consistently been at his side for the last year and a half that reaching for his hand was second nature by now. 

A few feet from them, and poking above the crowd, Jake discussed business with some of the most influential executives of Houston, laughing open-mouthed at all the right times, and making wide grins cut through the wrinkles of their faces. He behaved so appropriately that it seemed as if he had been born for this very moment, to live amid these people, and make drinking too much champagne something classy. In that suit, and with that smile, Jake could make snorting coke a sophisticated activity, if he wanted to. Karkat watched him from the sidelines, noticing just how Jake naturally blended into the crowd, while he stood out worse than a troll at a multimillionaire humanitarian event for private socialites only. Oh, wait, that was exactly what he was. 

“You’re a part of this family,” Dirk had told him, but, surrounded by powerful humans, he really didn’t feel like he belonged. 

_ January _

The house was big. On the outside, it looked a lot like that one mansion that Karkat had trespassed into to meet with John for the first time, and, on the inside, it had far more rooms than was probably necessary for six people to live in, which quite possibly made it the perfect opposite of the apartment. Karkat didn’t immediately hate it; it was just… Different. A lot different than he was used to. 

In the foyer, just upon entering, Joey let go of her father’s hand to run around happily, delighted at the details in wood of the main stairway and the various doorways all around, saying it reminded her of the manor that neither Dave nor Karkat had ever been to, only seen pictures of. It was sold now, and they’d never be coming back to it, which didn’t make Karkat upset for missing his opportunity to visit, because that place honestly looked like the set of a horror movie, and he didn’t care for those. Dave, as far as he knew, didn’t mind not visiting the manor, either, though he did seem upset for not having been invited to visit England as a whole. Karkat guessed that both Dirk and Jake had noticed that in his tone and the fall of his shoulders when the news had reached him, because they both reassured Dave that he would be seeing England whenever they went back to visit Jake’s good friend Jane. 

As Joey ran happily around the foyer, and Jude tried to accompany her on very short legs, Jake rested a hand on the low of Dirk’s back, watching the kids with a content smile on his face that looked to be an evolved version of Dirk’s shadow of one. Karkat saw that happen in his peripheral, and turned his face to avoid looking directly at it. 

“Are the rooms upstairs?” Dave asked, gathering some attention onto himself. 

Both adults answered him positively, one more energetic than the other, and Dirk left Jake’s side to accompany his brother to the second floor. Karkat followed. 

Dirk showed them around a little bit, to the library, the office, and down the hallway to the bedrooms, where five doors welcomed them, with the obvious master bedroom at the very end, inherently off limits. Five was a strange number for a family that would only use four of them, but Karkat didn’t contest that. If the patriarchs had chosen this house for the six of them to comfortably live in, then they had their reasons to want five bedrooms. Maybe one of them was a guest room, or maybe a makeshift stay for when Dirk kicked Jake out of his bed over their latest argument. Who knew. 

“What do you guys think?” Dirk asked with a hopeful edge to his voice that Karkat could very precisely pinpoint after knowing the guy for over a year, and which cut right through him, because Dirk was excited about this place, while he, well. He wasn’t, and, from the lethargy of Dave’s walk, he could tell that Dave shared the sentiment. It broke his heart.

“I like it.” He lied, but very partially, in the way that he was trying to make himself believe it, too.

“It’s okay.” Dave spoke through a shrug, choosing the honest path. “Kinda big.” 

“You don’t like that?” Dirk asked.

“No, it’s fine, it’s just, I don’t know. It’s not very you.” Dave turned to look his brother in the shades. “It kinda has Jake written all over it.” 

“Valid point, but that’s because you haven’t seen the garage yet.” 

“What’s in the garage?”

“Space and soundproof walls.” 

The perfect place for Dirk’s workshop. 

“Okay, that’s awesome.” Dave’s voice was too despondent to sing with that. 

“What’s wrong, Dave?”

Dave shrugged, offering nothing verbal to go with it, so Karkat jumped in for the assistance.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it? To be here.” 

“Yeah, kinda like this is Jake’s place, not ours.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Dirk intervened. “This place is for all of us.” 

“I know that conceptually, Bro; it just doesn’t feel like it.” 

“Alright, well. There are a few other options we can look at; this isn’t a final decision.” 

“No, this is fine. You guys like it, so.” 

“But you don’t.”

“No, we do.” Dave spoke while turning to fix the shades on Karkat’s face, and see his nod of approval to that. “We do.” 

_ February _

The movers unloaded the truck with incredible efficiency, carrying heavy boxes in strong arms back and forth for hours, like ants in line to fill up their nests. Karkat watched from the front lawn, minding the central path, and staying out of their way. The last thing that he wanted was to be a further nuisance than he already felt to be. Next to him, Dave stood in eerie silence. 

“We’re not living here forever, are we?” He asked. 

“Of course not.” 

“Good.” 

_ April _

“I’m not saying you’re not an expert marksman, Jake, because I know you are; I’m just saying we shouldn’t have a fucking gun in the house with the kids around.” 

Jake scoffed. 

“Frankly, Dirk, I don’t see the issue here, if the rifle will be stored safely away from the little ones, and handled properly by myself alone. You’re rather off your trolley over a quite ordinary matter, really.” 

“No. Ordinary? Jake, I don’t know what the fuck’s going on in England right now to make this ordinary, but no one should have a fucking assault rifle in their home.” 

“Assault rifle? Good God, mate! I mean a hunting rifle, you daft cow! What in the Jiminy Christmas would I be doing with a bloody assault rifle? Are you mad?” 

That rendered Dirk speechless for a full second, and caused the crease in between his brows to lessen. This wasn’t the first time that they misunderstood one another, and over dinner no less, while everyone sat at the table, and Jude babbled nonsense in the corner. He was getting a little too big for the high chair by now. 

“You’re still into hunting? I thought that was a form of escapism.” 

“No. As a matter of fact, it’s a dear hobby of mine.” 

“Then why don’t you get a normal one? Read books or something.” 

Jake’s lips parted in offense to that. 

“Quite the preposterous judgement coming from the man who builds robots for fun! I’m not in your workshop telling you what to do.” 

“I’m not trying to purchase a firearm.” 

“Daddy up!” Jude cut in from the corner. 

“I’m perfectly qualified to handle one, mate. Not to mention you’ve got samurai swords stuck to the walls; why not a rifle, too?” 

“First of all, they’re katanas, and you know that.” Dirk spoke while setting the cutlery down and getting up from his seat. Across from him, Jake grinned, and, judging by how tense Dirk’s shoulders looked, that grin had only infuriated him more. “Second, these two things are completely different.” 

“Daddy!” Jude slammed his little hands onto the high chair’s plastic table for attention. “Up!”

“Christ, Dirk, answer the poor bloke.” Jake said with a hand pointing to indicate the child. 

Dirk’s jaw set as he turned and walked over to the baby, letting him out of the high chair to roam freely around the dining room. Lazily watching him from the table, Jake grinned even wider, obviously delighted with Dirk’s annoyance. This seemed to be a recurring theme with these two; one always trying to get under the other’s skin, and vice-versa, making everybody else uncomfortable in the process. Truthfully, Karkat didn’t know how either Dave or Joey felt about it, but he always found it to be a breach in privacy whenever he happened across moments like this, even though it clearly wasn’t, if the two of them were comfortable with a small crowd watching the exchange. It must’ve been a personal issue, really, that Karkat should probably work within himself to fix. It might’ve even said more about him than either one of the two.

In reality, the very fact that he lived in this house felt like an invasion of privacy in itself, despite how much Dirk tried to convince him that he was supposed to be here, being a part of the family and all.

_ June _

Today was the day, then. This was it. The next step was just around the corner, and he only needed to wear the government’s clothes for it; that was what Dirk had told him last night, and he hadn’t forgotten about it; of course he hadn’t. Admittedly, his brain wasn’t the most efficient out there, but when an order made an impact, he usually had it carved into the nooks of his damaged mind along with the rest of his traumas. Dressed in clothes that had seen nothing but the floor of Dave’s wardrobe for two years, Karkat pulled the sleeves up his forearms and bent over the sink to wash his face. This was a special day, after all; he needed to look his best, despite the penitentiary jumpsuit. Next to him, sharing the same counter, Dave shaved. 

He closed off the tap and watched his hands shake. 

“It’ll be fine.” Dave reassured him, calmly rubbing razors down his face. 

Karkat used the remaining water in his palms to brush his hair back, and watch it have no effect on his anti-gravity genes. The wild locks atop his head easily resumed their previous position, as if he hadn’t even touched them, in a sort of mesmerizing spectacle. Like Dave had said, it’d be fine. It’d be fine. He hadn’t been to the building in years, and wondered if anything had changed. If his friends were still there. He knew that something funny was going on with both Sollux and Aradia, who were clearly lying to him about the transfer, but he still wasn’t sure if they would be around for him to meet up with. In all honesty, probably not; if he wanted to see anyone, it would have to be either Dammek or Xefros, who he had seen everyday for the last two years, and didn’t miss in the slightest. In fact, he was so tired of being reminded of those guys, that he wouldn’t even miss them. Briefly, he wondered about Eridan, if he had been auctioned off yet, or whatever had happened to him. How Sollux took that. Not at all well, if he knew Sollux. Maybe he had been “transferred” because of that. 

Deep in his chest, a dull ache started to fill it up, pumping shame through his veins. He could’ve helped his friends, he supposed. Dirk was helping him already, but Jake wasn’t doing anything, sitting idly on his pile of live cash, waiting for an opportunity to arrive that would make the pile even bigger with only an investment of part of it. Jake had enough resources to buy off Eridan, if he wanted to, and easily all four of Karkat’s lowblood friends. Was it really too late for that? Glancing over at Dave, with the question on the tip of the tongue, Karkat’s eyes fell onto the reflection of his naked chest in the mirror, and the scars that adorned it; the ugly one on Dave’s arm, from his last encounter with Xefros, that had pushed the two of them into a cramped up bathroom to stitch it up. He remembered the blood and the panic all too well, and couldn’t bring himself to forgive Xefros even after all this time, even after Xefros’ apology. The question on the tip of his tongue dissipated, and he swallowed it down with the rest of his bitterness. 

He had chosen his side a long time ago, after all. 

On the Monday after graduation, 27-A was quiet, and very few souls meandered the halls. The sight brought a chill down Karkat’s spine, and filled his stomach with dread, much alike what happened to him whenever he watched a horror movie, and believed the murderer to be crouching just behind the futon, except, this time, he didn’t have a backrest to peek over. On his right, Dave held his hand, and, on his left, Dirk held up a palm. 

“Wait here.” Dirk ordered, so he obeyed. Dave chose to take his side, and wait with him, while their guardian continued down the hallway to meet with Ms. Paint by himself. 

“It’s okay, Karkat. This is the good part.” 

Logically, he knew that Dave was right, but his blood was still poisoned with anxiety, and his breathing could barely keep him together by now. He knew that this was good, and he would finally be able to spend his days with the people that he loved, and that cared for him, so, really, he had no reason to be freaking out about this. What he was really afraid of was something going wrong in the process, and taking away everything that gave his life meaning. 

“Karkat Vantas.” A voice called, making both him and Dave turn to face it, and see the man that had spoken. Brady Jones. “I’ll see you to your room.” The security guard talked while towing a suitcase behind himself on his way toward the elevator, with a hand out to indicate it, and have Karkat follow. Conditioned to comply, Karkat let go of his matesprit and followed the man up one floor. 

Standing in front of his old bedroom door, he remembered that he hadn’t brought the key for it. In a breath-seizing flash, the vivid image of the key in question lying deep within the drawer of his current bedside table, and completely forgotten about, had him nearing a premature death. Dirk hadn’t told him to bring it with him, or he would have. Did Dirk even know that he would need it? On the one hand, no, because there was no conceivable way that he would know something like that, but, on the other, of course Dirk knew. Of course Dirk knew. In his macabre and freaky way, he must’ve known. With no cards left to play, Karkat told Brady Jones that, dammit, he must’ve lost the key!, but the guy wasn’t too surprised by that. Brady had a master key, and easily opened the door for him. 

Seeing this room again was cathartic. He had spent so much time sulking in here that, now, one step away from fleeing it forever, he almost missed it. The recuperacoon bunk that he shared with Xefros was here, the wardrobe that he shared with Xefros was here, and the musty carpet that made the rest of this place’s barren decoration was obviously still here. He walked over to his side of the room, and pulled the wardrobe open to see the mess that must’ve been inside after so long without touching it, doing his laundry, or even folding his clothes, but none of that greeted him. Instead, his entire wardrobe was washed, carefully folded, and placed into its respective drawers, with the jackets hanging from above, and the shoes in rows at the bottom. Karkat had never seen his side of the room this organized, so he supposed that Xefros must’ve done it for him during his absence. 

“This is yours.” Brady Jones said from the door, indicating the empty suitcase that he had brought along. Karkat thanked him and rolled it over to the wardrobe. 

In one of the drawers was Dave’s old record shirt that he had never given back, and that Dave had never asked for, and on a hanger at the very corner was Gamzee’s stolen hoodie. On emotional auto-pilot, Karkat took the shirt, and left the hoodie, closing the wardrobe doors on it, and hoping to never see it again. 

He was done here, with the suitcase completely full, but didn’t walk out right away. His eyes kept drifting over to Xefros’ end of the room, and his heart strangely longed for the guy now, even though he had seen him just last Friday, and had told himself that he  _ wouldn’t _ miss Xefros Tritoh, or his disgusting moirail, when, he supposed, that wasn’t all true. Seeing his half of the room cared for had panged him in the chest, and made him regret just how he hadn’t treated Xefros with the care and attention that he deserved, only because Dammek was always in the picture, driving Karkat away without actually doing anything. Xefros was a good friend, and he had been a shitty one in return. Maybe the guy was still around, and he could see him one last time? Karkat went over to Xefros’ wardrobe and pulled the doors open; nothing inside. He was too late. With his heart in a million pieces, Karkat towed the suitcase behind himself to leave. 

He followed Brady down the hallway and into the elevator, but couldn’t pay that too much attention with the wall of tears over his eyes. 

Downstairs, he met with two loving arms that brought him into a tight hug. Dave didn’t ask why he was crying, holding him firmly against his chest, and he didn’t bother saying a single thing, either, since it wouldn’t make a difference. He could just text Xefros later, anyway, or even call him. It wasn’t the end of the world, even if it felt like it deep inside. Right now, though, he needed to grieve, and remained in Dave’s arms until his name got called into Ms. Paint office. Naturally, Dave went with him. 

Inside, he was greeted by Ms. Paint with three copies of a document to sign, already filled out with both hers and Dirk’s signatures. Karkat knew that this was the legal purchase contract, and decided against reading it before signing; he couldn’t even make it past the title, and trusted Dirk to have read it for him. If Dirk, the most intelligent man that he knew, agreed to the terms and conditions of this, then so did he. Sitting down, he took the pen offered to him and signed his name very carefully, trying not to let his trembling hands get in the way of his horrid penmanship. The two signatures above his own looked absolutely beautiful, the reflection of adulthood, while his looked like it had been taken straight from a middle schooler. He wasn’t ashamed of it. Once finished with all three pages, he returned the pen, and watched it get passed over to Dave, the witness, for his signature, too. Karkat’s heart made for his throat, and it took all of his willpower to watch this exchange without immediately leaping out of the window that he knew was less than a foot from the ground. He was sweating, his feet were on the brink of bouncing, and his hands felt clammy. He wiped them onto his pants, but that didn’t seem to make a lot of difference. 

After Dave was done, Ms. Paint gave Dirk one of the pages, and kept the other two to herself. She explained that one was to be kept in her office, while the other was to be sent to the bureau. Then, she reached into the drawer next to her, and removed an expensive-looking box from inside of it, the kind that, in the movies, usually held pearl necklaces, so it must’ve been the bracelet. Karkat had no idea that they apparently cost so much, but, then again, they could just have been kept like this to further symbolize their power and meaning over all trollkind. He wouldn’t know. The three of them watched Ms. Paint place the box on the table, turn it toward them, and open it to reveal what they already knew would be inside. The sight of it made Karkat think back to that troll at the museum, to all of the trolls at that one bar, and to Vriska, who certainly wore one, but that, mixed in with the rest of her expensive jewelry, he hadn’t been able to point out. He wondered if they all wore the same kind, that looked exactly like this, and if other trolls wore different ones, depending on their status. Could the richest of the rich have this bracelet personalized? Did lowbloods wear this exact one, too? 

“As you can see, we have a plate here with his name above a barcode, and on the side the serial number. The chain is flat, and shouldn’t hurt the skin. This is all titanium, so breaking it is practically impossible. Arm, please.” 

Ms. Paint spoke the last part directly to Karkat, having him obediently hold out his wrist for her to wrap the bracelet around, and lock the open chain link on the plate. Almost eerily, the bracelet was the perfect size for his wrist. 

“Now, onto the additional literature.” 

Ms. Paint passed around another document that Karkat signed without reading, but that, next to him, Dirk read before signing, calming him down a considerable amount. As it passed from Dirk to Dave, Karkat felt the bracelet with the tip of his fingers, tracing the chains, and feeling the indentations of the plate where his name was, and where the barcode represented it. He didn’t know that there would be a barcode, but, in retrospect, it didn’t really surprise him. He felt the titanium for a while, until he was handed two thick books and their respective documents to be signed. Twice again, without reading, he signed, briefly noticing the absence of anyone’s signatures but his own and Ms. Paint’s. He supposed that books directly handed to him didn’t have to do with anyone else, thus didn’t require their signature, but, still, he passed the two paper sheets over to Dirk for him to read, which he did, as Karkat glanced down at the titles before him. The Bracelet Manual and Given Rights. Rights? So that was what being able to ride the subway was called. 

“Please make sure to read these, as they will answer whatever question you happen to have.” Ms. Paint told him. 

Next, she handed Dirk a book, and a form for him to fill out. Karkat caught a portion of the title in the corner of his eye as it was passed, and immediately turned to look away from it. What he had accidentally read had been disgusting, and he didn’t need a reminder of what this whole thing made him. Dirk read and filled out the form before handing it back to Ms. Paint, who proceeded to congratulate him on the purchase, and go on about that, so Karkat stopped listening. He kept his eyes down at the bracelet instead, running his fingers over the plate with a perfectly blank mind until Dirk got up from the seat next to him, and he did the same to follow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting last Sunday clearly didn't happen, but here it is. I hope you enjoyed the ride! 
> 
> As for the very last part of the trilogy, five chapters are currently up, and I'm working on the others. Thanks for reading. :)


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